


Time Flies (when you're having fun)

by Mlep929, thoughtsappear



Category: The Magicians (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Awkward Sexual Situations, Children, Depression, Domestic Bliss, Illustrations, Loss of Parent(s), M/M, Parent-Child Relationship, References to Oscar Wilde, Romance, Surrogacy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-10
Updated: 2020-09-10
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:16:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 23,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26382508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mlep929/pseuds/Mlep929, https://archiveofourown.org/users/thoughtsappear/pseuds/thoughtsappear
Summary: Quentin has never been lucky in love. At the start of the new year, his father tells him about a special ability that will hopefully change that, but along the way he learns that second chances don’t always work out in his favor. Sometimes it takes third chances, or even fourths.
Relationships: Quentin Coldwater & Alice Quinn, Quentin Coldwater & Julia Wicker, Quentin Coldwater/Eliot Waugh
Comments: 40
Kudos: 39
Collections: Magicians Happy Ever After





	1. Chapter 1

_Experience is simply the name we give our mistakes_ ~ Oscar Wilde

“Happy New Year!”

Quentin took in the brightly colored streamers and golden crowns atop everyone’s heads. Julia’s living room was awash in stimulation and he couldn’t pick a focal point. Julia ushered him in, shoved a glass of beer into his hand and told him to mingle.

It was 11:30 pm. He’d arrived late on purpose. Just in time to be seen and celebrate the ball dropping, but then he could disappear and be home by 12:15 and in bed before 1. Music was blaring from the speakers near his head and the television was playing on mute. He moved closer to the wall, and sipped at his drink. He didn’t recognize anyone but a few of Julia’s friends he’d met at birthday parties or seen in passing. None of them acknowledged him, and he was fine with that.

There was a girl in a pink dress across the room from him. She stood at the snack table, digging through what appeared to be a bowl of chex mix. He watched her searching for the appropriate snack of her choice, leaving behind the pretzels. He found that endearing, and when she lifted her head, he smiled at her. She smiled back and carried her napkin of chex mix across the room. She stood adjacent to him, but still not within range. He finished his beer just as she finished her food and they found themselves walking in the same direction.

“Can I get you a drink to go with that chex mix,” he asked as they crossed into the kitchen together.

“Sure,” she said. Quentin concentrated on pouring beer into solo cups with all his coordination. He carefully handed her the first one, then refilled his own.

They leaned against the table, drinking their beers as the rest of the party raged in the living room. People were dancing and laughing. Julia was placing a crown on her boyfriend James’s head.

“Do you know Julia?” he asked.

“Yeah, we carpool to work together,” she said. “I’m Diane.”

“I’m Quentin, we’ve been friends since elementary,” he told her.

Julia must have noticed the two of them, because she lit up like a sparkler and sauntered into the kitchen, grabbing Quentin by the hand. “You have to dance, Q.”

There were few things Quentin hated more than dancing. But he also wanted to be a good sport.

He motioned at the throng of bodies bouncing to Mr. Brightside. “You wanna join me?”

Diane took a gulp of her beer and nodded.

Once he was in the crowd, it was easy to get caught up in the excitement. He’d never been a big fan of the Killers, but now it seemed to be the best song he’d ever heard. Julia still had her hand around his wrist, and he used it to his advantage

He spun her around, making her shriek with laughter, and then with a minor hesitation did the same thing to Diane, who seemed to enjoy it as well. At least for the rest of the song, he felt light and easy and free, and for the first time, he found himself happy to be there, and happy to be turning over a new year.

The song changed, but they kept dancing, spinning each other, bouncing like idiots and screaming lyrics to a song when they knew the words. Quentin was surprised when the music cut out and James turned up the volume of the television. Julia’s friends were passing out glasses of champagne and they all counted down together.

Diane stayed beside him as they toasted each other and drank and then they stood there awkwardly as the other people in the room coupled off and kissed. Quentin just smiled at her, watching her face cloud over.

He was home by 12:15.

==

For his first day of a new year, Quentin resolved not to make any resolutions. He cleaned his apartment, threw out some old rotten apples from the fridge and ran vinegar through his coffee maker.

He was feeling rather accomplished when a knock on the door surprised him. He hadn’t been expecting any visitors, but he was glad to see the man waiting at his door was just his father. Quentin let him in and his dad made himself comfortable on the couch, then asked him how his new years went.

“Julia had a party,” Quentin said.

“How is she?” Ted Coldwater asked. He propped his feet up on Quentin’s coffee table.

“She’s great. She’s going to grad school this year.”

“She was always a smart girl. You should bring her around the house more often,” Ted said.

Quentin studied his father. He was an unassuming man, only an inch or two taller than Quentin, with thinning brown hair. He wore polo shirts and khaki pressed pants, and brown loafers. He looked like what you would see in the dictionary under the word dad.

Quentin shrugged. “She’s busy with her boyfriend and school.”

“I know,” Ted said. He smoothed his palms down his pants and then crossed his legs. “So, this isn’t just a social call.”

Quentin’s father did come visit occasionally. He lived alone, ever since he and Quentin’s mother had divorced around Quentin’s 9th birthday. His mother had remarried less than two years later, but Ted had remained single for over ten years. Quentin couldn’t even recall his father going out on a date. He liked to spend most of his time at home, listening to podcasts and putting together model airplanes. He also liked to read, and he enjoyed many long evenings with a cup of tea and a thick book. Quentin related to his father, knew they were extremely alike, which probably explained why his mother seemed to find fault with everything he did. In the years since he’d moved out of her house, he’d grown even more distant from her, and that fact didn’t especially chill his heart.

So his father's visit wasn’t completely out of the ordinary.

“There’s something special about the men in our family,” he said. He put his feet down on the ground and flexed his feet.

“We can time travel.”

Quentin stared at his father. “You’re fucking with me.”

Ted laughed. “Not at all Curly Q.”

Quentin rubbed his eyes. “Dad, please.”

“All you have to do is go into an isolated place. A closet is perfect, but a bathroom works in a pinch. You close your eyes and think about the time you want to visit and when you open them again, that’s where you’ll be.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Try it,” Ted said, motioning to the closet just behind him. Quentin lifted himself off the couch and approached the closet. He gave his father one more skeptical glance before opening the door and stepping inside. He could feel the coats brushing his face as he squeezed his eyes shut and he tried to decide when and where he wanted to go. The party from last night came into his mind.

When he opened the door, the lighting had changed. His father was gone, and it was 11:30 pm again, according to the clock on the wall. He ran outside and down the street, relieved that Julia lived within walking distance. He was hit with a bolt of deja vu as he entered the party, the same song blasting from the speakers, the people standing in the same tableaus.

“Quentin!” Julia grabbed him by the arm. “We’re about to hand out champagne for toasts.”

She was carrying two bottles in her hand, and she motioned over to Diane, who was standing in the same place he’d last seen her, pretending she wasn’t watching from the way she whipped her eyes away as soon as he glanced in her direction.

Quentin stumbled through the crowd. He felt hungover like he’d been drinking, but not the same buzz as he’d felt the night before. Diane’s face was flushed and she was smiling at him. One of Julia’s friends handed them each a full glass of champagne. Quentin watched as James turned off the music and began the countdown. Quentin felt emboldened, reckless even. He waited until the clock struck zero and instead of toasting Diane, he took her into his arms and gave her a kiss. He could feel her shock and then her delight as she relaxed and then pulled back with a shy smile. Quentin couldn’t help but smile as he began to understand everything in his life that had always been broken and wrong. He was being given a second chance. So what if he fucked up the first time? His life suddenly had so many extra chances.

He excused himself to the restroom to return to the present day, walked across the street to his brightly lit apartment and there was his dad, waiting for him, a satisfied smirk on his face.

“This changes everything, Dad,” Quentin said as he sank into his chair.

“How do you think I feel?”

“Every man in our family?”

“Grandpa Sonny, Uncle Richard.” Ted ticked the names off on his fingers. “And so on. But you can’t go to places beyond your own life. You can’t kill Hitler or anything like that.”

“What about the butterfly effect? What if I unmake existence or something?”

Ted shook his head. “Just be careful. Sometimes it’s better just to live with here and now.”

“What if I wanted to win the lottery?”

“Have you ever known a rich person who was truly happy?” Ted motioned at the books on Quentin’s walls.

“I’ve used it to read,” he explained. “Every book I ever wanted. Dickens, Faust, Shakespeare.”

“What about love?” Quentin asked.

Ted shrugged. “That was never my department. I tried with your mother but it just wasn’t meant to be.”

Quentin’s relationship history was brief and basic. He’d dated a few girls in college and had a few illicit trysts with boys, but he’d only just told his father he was bisexual, and Julia had caught him enough times around campus. He’d been waiting for someone special to sweep him off his feet but as time had gone by he’d realized maybe he’d have to do the sweeping.

Ted patted Quentin on the shoulder as he hoisted himself up off the couch. Quentin got up to give his dad a hug. He smelled like old spice and fresh air. Quentin loved that smell.

“Hey son,” Ted paused at the door. “There are some things that can’t be fixed no matter how hard we try.”

==

By the time summer rolled around Quentin had given up on love. He hadn’t met anyone that sparked his interest all semester. Instead he’d concentrated on school work, and he’d passed all his classes. He’d resisted the temptation to cheat and redo tests, but he had broken his own guidelines only once to turn in a paper on time.

Due to his busy semester, he’d not only neglected his love life, but his friendships as well. He’d been putting off spending time with Julia for months, and finally he had no excuse but to give her a call. She seemed ecstatic to hear from him, and that made him feel a little better.

Julia had a rich family. He’d always liked her because she never made him feel poor even though he supposed he was. She was the type of rich friend who bought his dinner without saying a word, or handled his movie tickets with a wave of her hand. When she invited him to her family’s cabin for the summer, he jumped at the chance to get out of the city and into the woods.

The first weekend in June he carpooled with Julia and her sister to the cabin. It was a few hours out of the city, and he was looking forward to some peace and quiet. Julia had huffed at his suitcase full of books, but he had also promised her that he would learn to swim this time. The first week at the cabin was mostly uneventful. But the second week things started to get more interesting when James came up from the city. Quentin watched from the porch, curious about the new guests.

James got out of his jeep, gave Julia a kiss and introduced his passengers. “This my brother Harry, our cousin Ginger and her friend Alice.”

Ginger was young and giggly and she immediately latched on Julia. But Alice was quieter. She had straight blonde hair and round glasses, and she wore a severe looking lace top and pencil skirt. She looked utterly out of place at the cabin. But there was something about her that Quentin found fascinating. She was gorgeous and from the titles of the books she left on her bed that afternoon, smart.

A few days later, Quentin was reading on the patio when Julia, her sister Mackensie and Alice all came out of the cabin in their bikinis. Julia was wearing a wide brimmed sun hat and Alice had traded her glasses for sunshades.

Quentin was secretly delighted to see Alice in something other than the long sleeved tops and high necked blouses she normally wore. Even her bathing suit was more modest than what the other girls were wearing. Julia, Mackensie and Alice settled on the lawn, and Julia motioned to her large beach bag.

“Alice, the sunscreen is in there. Maybe Quentin could do your back?” She glanced over her shoulder and gave Quentin a knowing look as he stumbled out of his chair at the sound of his name. He gathered his composure and walked over to the ladies. Julia had her hat pulled down over her eyes and Alice was pulling her hair up off the back of her neck and fastening it into a messy ponytail.

“Do you mind?” she asked.

Quentin shook his head, his mind racing. Julia was giving him an opportunity gift wrapped with a bow on top. He had to ace this.

He grabbed the sunscreen out of the bag and knelt on the hard ground beside Alice as she rolled on to her stomach. He flipped open the cap and then squeezed the bottle firmly, aiming at Alice’s shoulder blades. The sunscreen exploded from the bottle in a huge plop, covering Alice’s shoulders, her neck and getting into her hair. The splashback was so bad it got Julia’s face and even splattered on Quentin’s chest. She shrieked and Quentin stumbled backwards, still trying to mop up the excess sunscreen.

Alice jumped up and the other girls began rubbing at her back while Quentin muttered apologies and hung his head in shame. As he slunk back toward the house, he could see the three of them still trying to clean up the mess. No one seemed to even notice his retreat.

Quentin went straight into the room he was sharing with James and was relieved to find it empty. He dove into the closet, clenched his fists and then…

He could hear the girls in the house, still putting on their bathing suits. He took his time leaving the bedroom and walked outside to see the three of them setting out their towels. He casually took a seat at the patio, acting like he had not a care in the world. He set his book down in his lap and didn’t even pretend to read.

Julia noticed him, and he could see the wheels turning as she did the math in her head. “Hey Quentin, can you help Alice with her sunscreen? She’s really pale, you know.”

He approached the beach bag, even before Julia showed him where it was. He waited like before for Alice to roll onto her stomach and he flipped open the bottle, then gave it a practice squeeze. The lotion eased into his palm and he was able to warm it a bit before he began rubbing the lotion onto Alice’s back. Her skin was soft and as he moved closer he noticed the freckles on her shoulders and the goosebumps on the back of her neck. As he worked his way down he could even see her ears turn a little pink and he rubbed lower and lower into the skin of her pale lower back.

“Make sure you get the top of her bikini bottom,” Julia murmured. “It’s so easy to burn there.”

Her smirk was only visible to the two of them as he finished rubbing the sunscreen into every inch of exposed skin. The chemical smell of coconut and bananas would always remind him of doing this from now on.

He flipped the bottle closed with one smooth motion and the girls smiled and thanked him. Then he chose to keep all his goodwill intact as he waved goodbye and traipsed off to the lake. Once he was out of their sight, he breathed a sigh of relief.

==

Throughout the summer Quentin became closer with Julia’s family. He read all the books he’d brought, learned to swim and even went fishing a few times. He’d spent more time with Alice, and learned a lot about her. She was going to school to be a veterinarian and she also loved mystery novels. They spent a few evenings together in her room, talking about school or their favorite books and while he still felt that she needed to relax and open up more about herself, he did start to feel like he was getting to know her on a more intimate level. He’d been harboring his crush all summer and he’d yet to act on it.

It was the last night for most of them and Julia and James held a barbecue to say goodbye. There was beer, lots of food and cake. Quentin put on a clean shirt and combed his hair for the occasion.

After a couple of beers and a hamburger, he sat in a lawn chair next to Julia while they talked and laughed. He was feeling loose and relaxed. It was one of those nights he felt happy and excited for the future, and even though the summer was coming to an end, the fall seemed ripe with possibility.

“Where’s Alice?” he asked, realizing she wasn’t hanging out with everyone else.

Julia swallowed her wine. “She’s catching the train first thing tomorrow morning. She wanted to pack tonight.”

“Oh,” Quentin said, trying not to panic.

“Why don’t you go help her?” Julia suggested, handing him two beers. She was terrible, and he loved her.

He’d been wrestling over doing anything about his feelings for a few weeks now. He’d decided the best option was to wait until she was leaving so if she rejected him it would only be awkward for a short while.

He pulled himself out of the chair and headed into the cabin. Inside was dark and quiet. He found Alice right where he expected her, folding her clothes into a sleek black suitcase. She looked surprised to see him as he knocked on the door frame.

“I heard you’re leaving tomorrow morning,” he said, taking a short step into the room.

“Yep, gotta go back to school early,” she said, folding a white t-shirt he was pretty sure he’d never seen her wear. He set the beers down on her bedside table, pushing aside a box of jewelry.

He took a big breath and sat down next to her on the bed. Alice looked a little startled but she didn’t push him away so he considered himself golden.

“I really like you,” he started.

Alice was blushing. Her whole face was bright red and the color seemed to pool in her ears, which he’d noticed stuck out a bit. She had a habit of putting her hair behind her ears which only added to the effect. It was so adorable.

“I like you too,” she responded after a beat. It didn’t seem entirely genuine; however, it was enough to keep him going.

“So I was wondering if you might want to give me your number, and we could get together, maybe have dinner or something.”

Alice smiled but her posture was stiff. “Oh, I would love to, it’s just that you live in the city and I’m all the way out in the boonies. I just really don’t think it would work, plus we’re both going to be so busy, you know?”

“Oh, I totally agree.”

Quentin jumped off her bed so quickly it bounced. Alice folded the white shirt again even though it was already perfect. It stung, but he supposed this was the risk he was taking. He’d go back outside and split another bottle of wine with Julia, and by September, this would all be a distant memory.

He started to leave. Alice closed her suitcase with a clunk and cleared her throat, catching his attention.

“It’s too bad you didn’t tell me sooner,” she said. “Maybe we could have had something earlier in the summer.”

Quentin wasn’t sure how to respond so he just nodded and backed out of her room. She wasn’t rejecting him, she was rejecting the situation. She really did like him. He could have had a chance, in a different situation. He still felt disappointed but it was laced with relief.

He was on his way back to the party when her words echoed. He should have told her sooner. Then they could have had all summer together. Lucky for her, he _could_ tell her sooner.

He turned a corner and ducked into the empty bathroom. He closed his eyes, clenched his fists and thought back to a day a few weeks ago. There wasn’t anything special going on that day: Julia and James had gone for a hike, Mackenzie and Ginger were swimming and Alice had spent the day alternating between her room and the patio. It was the perfect day, plenty of privacy and just enough time left in their stay.

Quentin threw open the door and tried to reign in his enthusiasm as he rushed down the hall. The beers had followed him to the past and he was feeling a bit messy. He found Alice in her room, sitting on her bed with her ankles crossed, writing in a blue notebook. She put it away as soon as he knocked on her door frame and allowed him inside.

“So I know we barely know each other,” he started. She smiled at that and turned to throw her feet to the floor. He took that as an invitation and sat down next to her.

“But I like you,” he continued. “I think we have a lot in common and I was wondering if you wanted to explore that, at least for a little while.”

Alice smiled and folded her hands in her lap. “I don’t know you very well, but you seem really nice. I just think it’s too soon. Maybe if you came to me at the end of the summer, we’d have a solid friendship and we’d be able to explore it then.”

Quentin’s stomach deflated. All the good vibes he’d gotten from her seemed hollow and fake. He got up from the bed and gave her a forced smile, the kind that never fooled anyone.

“Just pretend I never said anything.”

He could hear Alice protest, calling his name down the hall, but he didn’t look back. He slammed the door of his bedroom. Without even a moment to hesitate, he climbed into the closet and thought hard about the last night at the cabin. It wasn’t the situation, it was him. He was silly to think there was really anything between them. Having this gift wasn’t such a blessing for his love life after all.


	2. Chapter 2

Quentin got a job at a small business that fall. His boss was demanding and mean, but he seemed to like Quentin and treated him well. The commute from his old place was way too long to do every day, so he looked in the newspaper for a new apartment, and James offered to help him find a roommate since nothing in the neighborhood was doable alone.

On his second day at the new place, his new roommate arrived. He was a friend of a friend. James said the guy was an actor and a playwright, but he worked nine to five at a telemarketing business. Quentin took that to mean he’d be gone a lot, so that suited him just fine.

The man standing in his doorstep was nothing like Quentin expected. He was a tall lanky Indian guy, dressed in what appeared to be a tattered shirt, slashed open to the navel. He carried a large brown box with a couple of black garbage bags at his feet.

“I’m Penny,” he said, already taking up more than his share of space with pure intimidation. “You must be Quincy?”

“Quentin,” he corrected, and grabbed one of the bags to help. “Nice to meet you, I took the back bedroom, hope that’s okay. The other is closer to the bathroom and the--”

Penny didn’t seem to be listening. Instead he dropped the box he was holding inches away from Quentin’s foot and walked down the hall.

“I want the back bedroom,” he announced.”It’s bigger and it’s quieter.”

“I’m sorry,” Quentin said.”I didn’t know.”

“I’m gonna go get the rest of my stuff. You can move your shit while I do,” he commanded, not waiting for Quentin’s response before he was already heading down the stairs.

Quentin struggled to move out of the back bedroom while Penny filled the living room with boxes. Penny took his time unpacking, only giving in when he tripped on one in the middle of the night.

Living with Penny proved to be interesting. He was temperamental. He played the music loud in his room but complained if Quentin’s music was audible. He had no concept of personal space or personal items and he brought dates over occasionally. More than once had Quentin gotten up to find a random girl in his kitchen drinking orange juice out of the carton.

Quentin accepted this as a necessary evil. Penny had some benefits. He was gone a lot, he paid his half of the rent on time, he usually did his own dishes. All in all, Quentin figured it could be worse.

Work was better than he expected. He liked his job and after a few screw ups he’d found his feet and made a few friends around the office. He’d spent a significant amount of time with Josh, who worked in the cubicle next to his. Josh was a bit of a loner type. He didn’t have a girlfriend but he was friendly and invited Quentin out for a beer or a coffee occasionally, and Quentin enjoyed the company. Penny had been in rehearsals for a play and he was unbearable, under a lot of stress to remember his lines and prepare. Quentin took every excuse to get out of the apartment when he could.

By opening night, Quentin was tired of walking on eggshells around his roommate. He hoped to all available gods that Penny would relax now. Penny had put some tickets on the fridge for him, but luckily Josh had asked him to dinner instead. Quentin spent an embarrassing amount of time trying to figure out what to wear, then settled on the first shirt and pants he’d put on.

“This restaurant is supposed to be amazing,” Josh told him as they walked up to the door. Josh talked a lot, which was fine because it meant the awkward pauses were never long. “The chef is world class. But I haven’t even told you the best part.”

They checked their coats and Josh gave the hostess his name. “Hoberman party of two.”

“The dining room is completely dark,” he said. “You can’t see a thing. It’s supposed to make you focus completely on the food.”

Quentin froze. A restaurant in the dark? He had a hard enough time eating without spilling in full light. He did his best to hide his nerves as the hostess asked him to take Josh’s arm and led them into the dining room.

He couldn’t see a thing, and his eyes tried in vain to adjust. There really wasn’t any source of light to be found. The train of Josh, Quentin and the hostess stopped and he bumped into Josh’s back.

“Excuse me,” the hostess said. “Do you mind if we sit these two gentleman with you?”

It took Quentin a moment to realize she was speaking to two other guests.

“If you must,” came a female voice. Quentin reached in front of him to find a chair, which he clumsily yanked from the table and slumped into, bumping his leg against the person sitting near him.

“I’m sorry,” he said to the person.

“No harm done,” came the voice, male, deep and closer to his ear than he was expecting.

Quentin took a moment to get himself settled. He wasn’t sure about his surroundings. He felt the table in front of him, a fork, a knife, an empty glass, and then a warm hand. Not his hand.

He snatched his arm away and was rewarded with laughter. “Hey, don’t you worry, we’ll be nice and friendly by the end of the night.”

Josh was already talking again, wondering about the menu and the drinks, while Quentin tried to relax into his chair without bumping or bruising anyone else or anything. He should have warned Josh that taking him to a completely dark place was a terrible idea as he tripped over his feet even in the bright sun.

Another voice plucked him out of his thoughts. “What would you like to drink?”

Quentin wasn’t sure if wine was a good idea or the greatest idea. He allowed Josh to pick for him and rested his hands on his lap.

“Seems like a stupid idea to cram us all together like sardines if we’re gonna be so blind we can’t even see the food,” the female voice on the other side of the table grumbled.

“I guess we have to help each other,” Josh said. “Must be part of the experience.”

Quentin could hear the flirty tone he was using and he was suddenly very aware of everything. He twitched a little, and he felt the man next to him shift in his chair.

“I’ll feed you like a baby bird, Bambi,” he said.

“So your name is Bambi,” Josh said. He sounded like he’d won the lottery.

“Do you really think that’s my name?” she said, her tone sharp and icy. It got Josh to pipe down long enough for the servers to bring their drinks. The table was quiet as the four of them concentrated on drinking without spilling.

Quentin carefully set his drink down on the table and searched with his fingertips for a napkin. He grabbed at a scrap of cloth, but felt resistance as he tried to take it.

“That’s my napkin,” Josh said.

“Here, I think this is it,” said the man next to him. Quentin felt a wad of cloth pressed into his hand.

He carefully unfurled it into his lap. “They should give us bibs.”

“First course is a trio of savory tartlets. Brie and bacon, jam and fig and potato and chive,” said the server as she set down their plates, bumping into Quentin’s shoulder as she did so.

Quentin took his time eating the appetizer, making sure he wasn’t smearing food all over his face, and then realizing to his delight, no one would be able to see anyway. He chewed carefully and mumbled appraisals while Josh waxed poetic about the brie.

“You’re not much of a foodie, are you?” came the voice at his side.

“Not as much as he is,” Quentin said.

A laugh, movement from under the table. “I don’t think anyone is. I should probably introduce myself, since we’ve already held hands,” he said. “I’m Eliot. She’s Margo.”

“My name is Quentin. The food critic is Josh.”

“Lovely to meet you. Do you two go out to these things often?”

“Oh no, not at all. We usually keep the lights on.”

“Is it a special occasion then? Your anniversary?” Eliot’s voice held a hint of humor. The question seemed like a joke.

Quentin swallowed a bite and reached for a glass that wasn’t there. “No, just friends out to dinner. How about you?”

“Bambi got tickets to the opening of this thing from work.” Eliot chewed and it seemed exceptionally loud.

“We had nothing else going on,” he added.

Quentin found his glass. “I skipped my friend’s play to come here.”

Eliot let out a groan. “I think you made the right choice.”

They finished their appetizers and then the servers were coming to refill their glasses. Quentin could hear Eliot and his friend talking and he tried to stay out even though it was impossible to ignore them. Josh did his best to distract him a little.

“Something just touched my shoulder,” Eliot said softly.

“It wasn’t me!” Quentin said, taking stock of all his limbs.

Eliot laughed again. “That’s even worse.”

“It wasn’t me either,” Josh said. “I’m touching something else.” He let out a sharp grunt. “Ow!”

“Oops, was that your leg,” Margo said, a voice like syrup spiked with cinnamon. “I have this reflex.”

Both Quentin and Eliot sputtered with laughter. Josh hitting on her was backfiring perfectly.

“He’s not doing a very good job is he?” Eliot whispered to Quentin. He was close enough that Quentin could feel his breath and it made him shiver. He couldn’t believe how attractive Eliot was. Quentin didn’t even know what he looked like but he was already developing a crush on his voice.

Quentin whispered back. “This is his best work.”

Servers arrived with their entrees. Cornish game hen, prime rib, vegetarian lasagna and white truffle macaroni and cheese. No one said anything for a few minutes as they tucked into their dinners. Quentin wondered if eating in the dark really made him enjoy the food more. It mostly made him spend the time trying to figure out what he was tasting.

The dishes were cleared and the silence between the four of them began to feel heavy.

“Which one of you is better looking?” Margo asked. Eliot huffed next to Quentin’s ear.

“Oh I am,” Josh said, and it held enough self-depreciation to fall back on as a joke. They laughed.

“No, he’s right. He’s suave and good looking and I’m just a super nerd,” Quentin agreed.

“We love those,” Eliot said.

Quentin could feel his face grow hot. His elbow bumped Eliot’s as he squirmed in his seat.

“Hey Quentin-” Eliot whispered, his mouth right at Quentin’s collar. “I was hoping--”

“Excuse me,” the server said, swooping in and setting down a dish in front of him. “The final course, a selection of mousses. Chocolate, strawberry and banana. Thank you for dining.”

Quentin waited to see if Eliot was going to finish his thought, but instead he was talking and laughing with Margo, arguing about the banana mousse. Quentin focused on his own dessert, trying not to tense up.

“I think I have chocolate mousse,” Eliot said. “Try some.”

Before Quentin could protest, he could feel Eliot drawing closer, “Bring your mouth over here.”

He did as he was told and received a spoonful of chocolate.

“I have strawberry,” Quentin said, trying his best to scoop up a little. He could hear his spoon scraping against the bowl. “You wanna try?”

“Alright,” Eliot said. Quentin groped around and did his best to guide his spoon to Eliot’s mouth. “Ow, that’s not—”

Quentin drew back his spoon but the damage was done. Eliot didn’t seem too upset though. He was laughing.

“You just got strawberry mousse in my eye!”

Quentin tried to hand him his napkin. “I’m so sorry.”

Eliot’s hand covered his own, stopping him from jabbing his face. “You owe me.”

He guided Quentin to pat the mousse from his face, then he heard Eliot laugh again. “Doesn’t taste too bad.”

==

After dessert, Eliot and Margo had excused themselves from the table. Josh and Quentin paid their bill, then in an unspoken agreement, waited for the two of them. The meager lights of the street lamps were an adjustment after the pitch dark of their evening.

“Margo seems really into me,” Josh said. “You seemed like you got along pretty well with her friend, what’s his name, Oliver?”

“Eliot,” Quentin replied, eyes fixed on the door. “He was nice.”

There was motion, and the two of them bristled as they waited for the person to make their entrance. A woman with long black hair and a sharp gaze exited the restaurant. She wore a short gold dress and carried a matching clutch. When her eyes landed on the two of them, Quentin could see her dismay.

“Wow, you’re even more beautiful than I thought,” Josh said, already moving to embrace her.

“Oh hey Josh,” she said, polite but unimpressed. “Help me get a cab.” She turned her head back to shoot a quick glance at Quentin. “I’ll wait for Eliot around the corner.”

Quentin nodded and watched the entrance even more intently. He’d been talking to Eliot all evening and he had no clue what he was going to look like. He hadn’t even imagined him in his mind’s eye. He had a crush on a voice and if Eliot was even the least bit good looking it was all over.

The door opened and Quentin froze. He was afraid to even blink.

Quentin’s face broke into a smile before he could tamp down the urge. The man exiting the restaurant was incredibly handsome. And even though he had no way of knowing, Quentin was sure this was Eliot. He couldn’t stop himself, and he walked up to him. Eliot was tall, much taller than Quentin, with a tousle of curly hair, a strong jawline, a dimpled chin and warm brown eyes. He was dressed in crisp tailored clothes, making Quentin feel underdressed and sloppy in his slacks and polo. Quentin instinctively pushed away the hair in his eyes.

“You must be Quentin,” he said, a knowing look on his face. “Want a smoke?”

“Sure,” Quetin said. He only smoked a few times a month these days, mostly to piss off Penny. Eliot offered him a cigarette from a sleek silver case and then lit them both with a practiced flick of the lighter.

“Where’s Margo?” he asked, suddenly noticing her absence.

“She went with Josh to get a cab,” Quentin replied. “it’s impossible to get cabs this time of night on this street. They went around the corner.”

“Oh yeah.” Eliott didn’t seem bothered. He blew out a stream of smoke and Quentin did the same, tipping his face up towards Eliot’s.

“Hey.” Eliot reached for Quentin’s chin. “You’ve got some chocolate mousse.”

He wiped at Quentin’s lower lip, making him flush with embarrassment and excitement at having him so close again. If Eliot noticed his reaction, he didn’t show it. He just kept smoking.

“So listen,” Eliot said. “I was trying to ask you, there’s an Oscar Wilde exhibition at the art museum next month. Margo can’t stand him, and we’ve already had dinner so..”

He stopped short. “Do you like Oscar Wilde?”

“He’s one of my favorites.” Even if he wasn’t before he was now.

“Let me give you my number.” Eliot blew smoke into the night and leaned against Quentin like he didn’t have a care in the world.

Quentin struggled to find his phone, trying not to burn himself with his glowing cigarette. It was tucked in his jacket pocket, right where he’d left it before entering the restaurant. Once he had the phone out, he had to fight like hell to get his fingers to cooperate so he could unlock it. Finally, he entered Eliot’s number with clumsy fingers and triple checked it was correct. If Eliot was bothered by his actions, he didn’t mention it; instead he continued smoking, looking elegant and unreal against the blackness of the night.

[](https://ibb.co/WfGzcpG)  


“Eliot for fuck’s sake!” Margo’s voice came shrieking from around the corner. “The cab is waiting!”

“Call me!” Eliot said, not rushing one bit, tossing his cigarette down and giving Quentin a wave. As he turned the corner, he crossed with Josh who was saying his goodbyes to Margo.

“I’m gonna marry that woman,” Josh said as he met up with Quentin, who was staring at the phone in his hand as he puffed hard on his smoke.

Quentin put his phone back in his pocket, and walked happily behind Josh as he babbled on and on about the restaurant, about Margo and the entire night.

==

When Quentin arrived back at his apartment he found Penny sitting at their kitchen table drinking a bottle of whiskey straight from the bottle. His costume was hanging off and his hair was wild. The sense of dread Quentin felt had him wanting to turn tail and run. Instead he took a seat across from Penny.

Neither said anything for a moment or two, until Penny finished the bottle of whiskey and tossed it into their garbage, then began scouring the kitchen for more booze. He found a bottle of beer that Quentin had bought just a few days ago and Quentin cringed as Penny wrenched off the cap and began chugging.

“I take it the play didn’t go well,” he said.

“It fucking did not!” Penny shouted. “It was my big break. And the douchebag who got the lead over me totally forgot his lines and made me look like a dumbass and ruined the whole thing.”

“You’ll have another chance,” Quentin said.

“I can just see the reviews now,” Penny muttered, tipping the bottle into his mouth. There was nothing left and he slammed it down onto the table. “I’ll never get another part like this, I should never have decided to be an actor.”

Penny drank and ranted until he was incoherent. Once he was too far gone, Quentin helped Penny to bed, left him a glass of water and backed out into the hallway.

“If only he would have learned his lines,” Penny muttered as he buried his face into the pillow.

Quentin stopped outside Penny’s door and thought long and hard about what he was going to do. Penny had been sort of a dick to him, but he also cared a lot about this play and he didn’t deserve to have one person ruin it for him. Quentin had the unfortunate realization, if Penny was unhappy and dissatisfied, he was going to be an even worse roommate going forward.

Quentin stepped into his closet and closed his eyes.

===

“I’m just gonna slip backstage and thank Penny for the tickets,” Quentin said.

“Okay sure.” Josh was studying the playbill. _When the Voluble Salesman Knocks_ , even the title was pretentious.

Quentin was able to get back there without too much hassle. He caught up with the lead actor Todd, who was putting on makeup in front of a mirror. Anyone could see that he was wracked with nerves.

“Are you the stagehand?” he asked. “Is it time already?”

“Oh, no, there’s about ten minutes left,” Quentin said. “I just thought you could use another look at the script.”

He handed Todd the script, noticing how dog-eared and highlighted it was. He tried flipping through the pages to find the scenes with Penny. Anything he could do to mitigate the coming disaster.

“How did you know I was struggling with that scene?” Todd asked. He put down his makeup brush and studied the pages. “It’s just such a big exchange, and Penny’s so good.”

“I know,” Quentin said. “We can run through the lines.”

Quentin ran through the scene with Todd a few times and he seemed to have it memorized. The play started and everyone did their parts well, including Todd. Quentin began to relax. Then Todd’s monologue. Quentin held his breath, but as the lights hit Todd’s face everyone could see the terror in his eyes. He stood frozen in fear until one of the other actors prodded him off stage. The mood of the show was dead as the others tried to muddle through.

Simply running lines with him wasn’t going to be enough, Quentin realized. Twenty more excruciating minutes and they called for intermission. Quentin escaped to the bathroom to try again.

This time, he made an excuse and stayed backstage, feeding lines to Todd. The performance was better, but not great. Quentin realized that just going back to the night of the play wasn’t gonna cut it. He had to go back farther, really take a bigger interest in Penny’s play from the beginning and make sure that Todd was prepared.

By the time the curtain went down, Penny was happy, Quentin was exhausted but the show was a hit.

For the next few days Penny was a delight to be around. Quentin basked in the good vibes while drinking the expensive coffee Penny had bought and was brewing every morning. Quentin hummed, searching through his phone until he got to E. No numbers. The horror overcame him and he lost all his faculties.

“Fuck!” he exclaimed, breaking Penny’s coffee mug. Penny let out a shocked curse from where he was busy cooking french toast.

He didn’t even have time to apologize. He dashed up the stairs, rewound a few days to just after curtain and gave himself a minute to regroup.

He ran from the play to the restaurant, even though it was half way across town. The black out restaurant was just a few moments from closing and the man working seemed extremely annoyed by his presence.

“Did you have a reservation for someone named Eliot?” he begged the host. “Or Margo?”

The man rolled his eyes and scanned the list. “No, sir.”

“Okay, did you see a man about this tall, and a girl, dressed in gold, about this tall? They would have been here about 2 hours ago, probably left 45 minutes ago,” he motioned wildly extrapolating their heights.

“I do recall a young woman with such a gentleman,” he said.

Quentin felt a rush of relief. “Can you tell me anything about them?”

“I apologize sir. The gentleman paid cash and they did not have a reservation. We have no other information about them.”

Quentin’s stomach sank into his toes. “Thank you.”

He walked home silently. By fixing Penny’s life he’d ruined his own. How was he ever gonna meet Eliot again? He tried to piece together all the things he knew about Eliot until it hit him.

The answer was so obvious it was scary.

Oscar Wilde.

The exhibit next month. All he had to do was go there, Eliot was bound to come eventually. Even if he had to go every day, he’d figure out a way. It was crazy enough it just might work.


	3. Chapter 3

Quentin prepared for the exhibit as much as he could. He read _The Portrait of Dorian Gra_ y again. He studied trivia, and borrowed Penny’s collection of plays. He got a haircut, hated it, and then undid it. He picked out a good outfit and actually asked Josh for advice that he immediately wanted to forget.

The first day of the exhibit he canvassed the entire museum and figured out all the nuances of the place. By the end of the first week, he had it down to a fine science. There was no way he’d miss Eliot if he showed up. A little nagging voice kept saying, “what if he doesn’t come?” but he didn’t let that voice hold the floor long.

It was the second to last day of the exhibit, only 20 minutes before closing when he turned the corner and saw him. Quentin had been imagining what Eliot might look like for the entire week, and when he finally saw him there, a floor-length poster of Oscar Wilde behind him, he wasn’t sure if he’d imagined a person so real he stood there in front of him.

Quentin took a deep breath and walked over to speak to him. He’d been practicing what to say for weeks and he’d picked one of Oscar’s most witty quotes, something that would definitely get Eliot’s attention. Eliot was reading the plaque in front of a display. Quentin stood next to him and pretended to look at the same thing.

“This wallpaper and I are fighting a duel to the death. Either it goes or I do.”

“Excuse me.” Eliot flinched, like Quentin was some kind of dangerous maniac. “What?”

Quentin cleared his throat and motioned to the picture of Oscar Wilde above their heads. “His last words, they were rumored to be ‘this wallpaper and I are fighting a duel to the death’…”

Eliot grinned, a smile of pure delight that Quentin could barely handle it was so stunning. He fixed his eyes on the display, memorizing the words without actually reading them. He tried to stop hyperventilating and wiped his sweaty palms on his legs while Eliot was distracted.

“That sounds exactly like something he’d say. I’ve never heard that before,” Eliot said. “Are you a tour guide?”

“No, just an enthusiast,” Quentin replied. “You sort of reminded me of Oscar.”

Eliot tugged surreptitiously at his hair. “I did dress the part.”

“What else do you know about him?” he asked as they walked side by side to the next picture. Quentin began rattling off most of the information he’d gathered in the week of casing the joint and everything else he’d learned as prep for the greeting. He couldn’t believe his luck, as Eliot hung on every word and seemed impressed.

“Are you done?” Margo came stomping in, disturbing the otherwise tranquil vibe of the exhibit.

“You’ll have to forgive Margo,” Eliot said. “She’s not much of a fan. I had to promise to take her next door to School’s Out for a drink after this.”

“Of course,” Quentin said, watching Eliot wrap an arm around her. Was Margo gonna ruin this for him? He had thought this through, but hadn’t quite figured out how to account for her interference. But his fear was quickly squashed. 

“Would you like to join us?” he asked. “I’m Eliot and this is Margo.”

“I’m Quentin. Yeah, that would be great.”

Fifteen minutes later and the three of them were crammed into a booth at the bar. Eliot and Margo were asking him questions about himself. Quentin was sipping the cocktail Eliot had suggested and his heart was beating at a normal speed. He hadn’t said anything embarrassing or too awkward. Everything was going great.

Eliot’s phone began to vibrate on the table. He picked it up and glanced at the display. “Just give me a sec.”

He held it to his ear and made his way to the entrance. The crowd was beginning to increase as the night went on, and it was getting harder to hear. 

Margo finished her gin and tonic. “I bet that was Idri. Eliot’s new boyfriend. He’s amazing. You’re gonna love him.”

Quentin’s heart had been beating at a normal rate, but this new information did something to it that was akin to throwing someone on a treadmill at full speed without any warning. Of all the variables, this was one he hadn’t expected. He tried not to let his sorrow show as he buried his face in his drink

Eliot walked back to the table, joined by a man with broad shoulders and a trench coat he was shrugging off. He was tall, African-American, well dressed and older. Everything Quentin was not. Quentin finished his drink in a long swallow. 

“This is Idri,” Eliot said as the man shoved into the bench seat next to him. Quentin accepted his offer of a handshake, feeling even more inadequate at the size of Idri’s massive hand. 

Margo and Eliot did most of the talking, chatted about the exhibit, and explained how they met Quentin. Idri was looking at Quentin in a way that seemed suspicious, but maybe it was all in his head. 

“How did Eliot and Idri meet?” Quentin asked Margo. Girls loved to talk about that kind of stuff. She’d give him all the details he needed. Eliot and Idri seemed oblivious to the rest of them as they were discussing something Eliot was showing Idri on his phone.

“About two weeks ago, my friend Marina had a party,” Margo said. “I was running late and while he was waiting for me, the two of them started talking and totally hit it off.”

“Aren’t they adorable together?” she added. Eliot was whispering something in Idri’s ear, and whatever it was, it was making Idri’s eyes light up. The two of them had those big dopey smiles you always see in a new relationship. 

They were adorable. And watching them across the table was destroying Quentin. 

“When and where was this party, exactly?” he asked Margo, already scoping out the closest bathroom.

==

Quentin was nervous as he walked up the stairs to Marina’s party. Margo had been forthcoming with the details, but he hoped that everything she said was accurate, so he could time his entrance perfectly. He was just hoping no one would realize he wasn’t an invited guest. 

Once he was inside, the house was so loud and crowded he felt invisible. He stopped by the kitchen for a beer, then checked out a couple of rooms. He hadn’t seen Eliot anywhere and was starting to worry he’d screwed something up. However, he happened to glance inside a small room with a piano and a record player. Eliot was inside, nursing a glass of red wine by a window. He was alone and his body language read as stiff and uncomfortable. Quentin watched him for just a moment, noticing the uncertainty in his expression.

Eliot was nervous, which made Quentin feel better. It made him feel brave and gave him just enough of a push to cross the room. He slipped in next to Eliot, leaning against the window sill. He licked his lips before he spoke. 

“This wallpaper and I are fighting a duel to the death. Either it goes or I do,” he said.

Eliot laughed and looked down at him, sizing him up in a way that was neither subtle nor insulting. Quentin hoped he measured up.

“That sounds familiar,” he said. 

“Oscar Wilde, I just went to the exhibit this week,” Quentin said. Eliot visibly brightened.

“I’ve been meaning to go to that,” he said, sipping his drink.

“You reminded me of him, especially with the way you’ve been staring down the walls,” Quentin said. “Has anyone ever told you that?”

Eliot smiled. “Not anyone as cute as you.”

Now Quentin felt off balance. He stared out the same window as Eliot, checking for Idri or Margo on the street. The coast was clear and he relaxed a little before he spoke again.

“You don’t look like you’re having much fun,” Quentin said, turning his attention back to Eliot’s face.

“What gave you that idea?” Eliot looked down at him, eyes crinkling.

“Oh just the way you’re ignoring everyone,” Quentin told him. “I thought you looked a little bored.”

“Did you come to relieve my boredom?“ Eliot said. Now he was smiling. There was an air of suspicion behind his expression, like he was trying to figure Quentin out.

“I did. I was wondering if you’d like to have dinner with me?” Quentin asked. “If we leave now, we can have two appetizers.”

“What makes you think dinner with you is better than this party?” 

Was he flirting? God, he sounded like he was. 

“Well, if you hate my company, you can always just take the appetizer to go.”

Eliot finished his wine in a gulp and set down his glass on top of the piano. “Everyone knows that ten minutes is all you need to spend at a party anyway.”

“I’m Quentin.” 

“Nice to meet you, I’m Eliot.”

Quentin followed Eliot down the stairs and out the door, to where they saw a man getting out of a cab. Quentin tripped a little on the curb when he realized it was Idri. There was hardly enough room for the two of them to get by. 

“Excuse me,” he said, moving aside to let them pass.

‘What a cock,” Eliot said as they walked, causing Quentin to burst into laughter.

Less than twenty minutes later they were at the restaurant down the street, the first one that Quentin saw that had al fresco dining. They were sharing a baked brie and a plate of lettuce wraps.

“So tell me Eliot, what do you do?” Quentin said, buttering a piece of bread.

“I work in the jewelry business. Me and my friend Margo. I do designs and settings and she handles the money.”

“Wow.” 

He’d met Eliot multiple times now, but never found this out. He’d only just noticed the rings on his fingers and the shiny gemstone pinned to his tie. 

“it's not as exciting as it sounds. I don’t get to take diamonds home in my pockets. Anymore.”

He grinned at Quentin and took a bite of cheese. His smile made Quentin feel like a schoolgirl with a crush. Giddy and stupid and insecure all the same time. 

“But designing, that’s interesting, right?”

“It can be, when I get a really good client who wants something other than a princess cut diamond. How about you?” he asked. “No, wait let me guess.”

“It’s really boring,” Quentin said.

“Let me be the judge of that,” Eliot waved him off. “Your hands are rather soft looking. You don’t have much of a tan, so I’m thinking it’s neither hard labor or outdoors.”

“You’re right.”

“You got me to come out here, so you’re a decent salesman, but you’re just self-deprecating enough to be good company,” he continued. “You know about books so you must have gone to school. You’re cute, but a little geeky, so you obviously weren’t always cute.”

Quentin blushed. “Have you figured it out yet?”

“I’m going with… archaeologist.”

“That’s much better than the truth.”

Eliot finished the brie and laughed. “What’s the truth?”

“I’m an associate at Miller’s Plastic Tubing. But strangely enough, I always wanted to be Indiana Jones growing up.”

“That’s okay, my fantasy’s not ruined. You could have a sexy businessman thing instead.”

Quentin reached up and pushed his hair behind his ears. It had gotten long since the summer and he was able to tie it back in a ponytail. Any longer and he might hear about it at work.

“I like your hair,” Eliot said, making him freeze as he did so. Not cutting was the right move.

Eliot ordered another glass of wine and they kept talking.

“Family?”

“Youngest of three boys,” Eliot said between bites of pork chop. “You?”

“Only child. Jersey. Parents?”

“Alive and unhappily ever after. Yours?”

“Divorced. My Mom remarried and my dad is on his own.”

“Do they live nearby?”

“My mom and her wife are in Chicago, dad lives just a few towns away.”

“So are you close with your dad?” Eliot asked.

Quentin trimmed the fat from his steak as he answered. “I guess so. How about your family?”

“Not really. How is that steak, by the way? It looks divine.”

“It’s good. How is your pork chop?” Quentin asked.

“It’s great, would you like to try it?” Eliot didn’t wait before he was carving off an ample piece and aiming it at Quentin’s mouth.

Quentin leaned forward and accepted the bite off Eliot’s fork. There was something so intimate about eating off his fork. They hadn’t even kissed yet, and here they were sharing food. Just like the first time they met. He carved off a piece of his steak and held it out to Eliot, who took the offer without so much as a second thought.

After dinner, and desert cappuccinos with apple strudel, the two of them walked back toward the party. When they arrived at the still bustling house, Eliot motioned like he was going inside. Quentin prepared to say goodnight and began walking up the stairs, but Eliot stopped him.

“You know, I think I'll skip the party, Margo will understand. Walk me to my car?”

Quentin hopped down from the second stair. “Okay, where is it?”

“At my house,” Eliot said. “I took a Lyft here.”

Quentin just nodded and fell into step beside him. As they talked, Eliot reached over and threaded their fingers together. Quentin tried not to worry if his hand was sweaty or clammy and just enjoyed the contact. 

“This is me,” Eliot said, coming to a stop in front of a charming old brick building. He didn’t let go of Quentin’s hand, and pulled him a little closer, then arranged them so they could look at each other under a street lamp. Quentin was reminded of their height difference. He’d never been with someone so tall. He kinda liked it. Eliot leaned down and their faces came together in a gentle kiss. Quentin couldn’t remember an easier first kiss, no bumping noses, no slobbering, nothing awkward at all. It was perfect.

“This was fun,” Quentin said. “Do you think I could get your number?”

“Sure,” Eliot said. He didn’t let go of Quentin. “You wanna come up?”

Eliot kissed him again, this time with a little more intention behind it. Quentin suddenly knew what people meant by saying something made them weak in the knees. He clung to Eliot’s shoulders.

“Yeah,” he said. There was no other option at this point. He would go anywhere Eliot wanted to take him. 

“Keys, keys,” Eliot mumbled digging in his pockets. He must have found what he needed because he grabbed Quentin by the hand and pulled him up some stairs. They stumbled over each other’s feet as Eliot unlocked the door and let him in.

“This is my place,” Eliot said. “Make yourself a drink, I’m gonna go change into something more comfortable.”

“Don’t take too long,” he added with a smirk. 

Quentin saw the drink cart Eliot was referring to and went to study it. He had some very fancy bottles and all sorts of accouterments. After careful consideration, Quentin decided against another drink, lest he get sloppy. Instead, he took a moment to check out Eliot’s place. It was the kind of apartment Quentin wished he could afford, but didn’t know how he ever would. He had a breakfast nook for God’s sake. He was reading the fanned out magazines on the coffee table when he heard Eliot calling. 

“Quentin?”

Quentin followed the sound of Eliot’s voice until it led him into the bedroom. Eliot was standing in front of his bed wearing an expensive-looking silk robe. He took another step towards Eliot and tripped over something in his path. Eliot’s shoes. It took every bit of coordination he could muster not to fall on his face.

“You alright?’ Eliot asked. Quentin’s pride was bruised but he did his best to shake it off. He gathered his courage and wrapped his arms around Eliot, trying to kiss him in a way that would erase all other coherent thought. It seemed to help, as they both began to relax and Eliot backed them up until he was up against the bed. Quentin felt a bit bold as he pushed Eliot down and was rewarded with a generous smile. 

Quentin straddled Eliot’s hips and worked open his robe. Eliot reached up and put his hands on Quentin’s lower back. Quentin kissed his neck and chest and ran his hands up and down Eliot’s sides causing him to jerk up, bumping Quentin’s nose.

“Ow!”

“Sorry, I’m a little ticklish.” Eliot apologized. 

Now more than just Quentin’s pride was bruised but he was committed. His nose ached a little but it wasn’t enough to stop him. Eliot started tugging at his shirt, and Quentin pulled hard, hearing a ripping sound. He cringed, it wasn’t his most expensive shirt but it had to be in the top three. Eliot had heard it too, and he was already fingering the rip. Quentin shook his head and threw the wad of cloth over their heads. Then he wiggled and squirmed out of his dress pants, getting them stuck once he got to his shoes. This had to be the worst seduction in the history of the world. It was mortifying at every turn. 

Quentin yanked his shoes off without undoing the laces and shoved his pants off and away as if the clothes had offended them. Eliot seemed to be stifling a laugh, but when he saw Quentin’s face he softened. 

“You seem a little pent up,” Eliot said, settling back on the bed. “Slow down.”

“I’m fine,” Quentin said, annoyed at himself and the situation. 

He took a deep breath and tried to relax by kissing Eliot. He worked his hands into Eliot’s hair which was becoming a mess of curls. Eliot let out a soft groan and pushed his body into Quentin’s. 

“You’re so hot,” he said, mouthing against Eliot’s neck.

“I could say the same thing about you,” Eliot said.

“I’m not hot, I’m cute maybe, but--”

“Hey, stop,” Eliot pushed Quentin away just enough so they could look at each other face to face. He took Quentin’s hand and wrapped it around his growing erection.

“That’s hot, you’re hot, now I don’t want to hear anything else except dirty talk.”

Quentin smiled and kissed him again. Eliot relaxed into the pillows behind him and Quentin paused to take him all in. So much flushed skin, long strong legs, a smattering of chest hair and what had to be one of the biggest dicks Quentin had ever had the fortune of becoming acquainted with. 

A rush of fear came over him. “You’ve been with a lot of guys haven’t you?” he blurted out.

“Are you calling me a slut?” Eliot said with mock offense. Quentin squeezed his eyes shut and tried to focus on the task at hand. 

“Does it bother you?” Quentin asked. He looked up at Eliot, who smiled. “That I haven’t?”

“Just try your best,” Eliot said with a smirk.

“Seriously?”

“This is seriously not the time,” Eliot said. Quentin reached down and took his cock into his mouth, trying to make up for experience with enthusiasm. He did everything wrong. He slobbered all over Eliot’s thighs. He gagged. He used his teeth. His eyes began to water and he could have sworn Eliot was going soft.

He pulled off for a breath and tried again. He wanted to make Eliot’s toes curl but they weren’t really moving. Quentin hadn’t concentrated on anything this hard since his last Chemistry final. The last time he’d been this close to a dick was about a year ago after a party at James’s dorm. Quentin had drunk a few too many beers and had decided to seduce the very cute guy with the eagle tattoo and the lip ring. He’d succeeded but it had been sloppy handjobs done in a rush in an abandoned room on a bottom bunk. He hadn’t been able to smell dirty socks for weeks without getting a little horny.

He hoped that this would be better, so far he seemed to be failing. He gave up on the blowjob and just tried to use his hands. At least he had a little more finesse there. He kept one eye on his work, and one eye on Eliot’s face, checking for winces or any signs of distress.

Eliot hadn’t pushed him away or told him to stop, so he assumed it was okay to keep going. It felt a bit like fixing a car or playing a video game, trying different combinations of actions to get a good reaction. It felt rather mechanical, and Quentin could feel the tension in their bodies.

It seemed to take Eliot a really long time to come, but it could also be the fact that every minute seemed to be dragging out forever. After he came, Eliot finished him with just a few strokes of his hand and Quentin was too happy to be embarrassed. 

“Do you mind if I use your bathroom?” Quentin asked.

“Course not,” Eliot said. “You’re gonna spend the night, right?”

“Yes.” Quentin gave Eliot another kiss before he disappeared into the bathroom. He wiped his face with a washcloth, closed his eyes, and thought hard about a few minutes ago.

==

“Quentin?”

Quentin walked into the bedroom, glancing down to see Eliot’s shoes near the doorway. He picked them up and put them out of the way.

Eliot had a soft smile on his face as Quentin entered the room, then tumbled them both to the bed. He made sure not to touch Eliot’s sides, instead focused his attention on Eliot’s hipbones and his nipples, making him shiver and shake. He could see the look on Eliot’s face, how he was starting to feel at ease. He’d already thought to loosen his shoes, and he slipped them off, then unbuttoned his shirt before pulling it over his head. No rips, no bruises. 

He tried his best to remember the things that Eliot liked, and tried to enjoy the experience more instead of just jabbing at him like a broken button. He didn’t even attempt a blowjob, that was gonna have to wait until he gave Julia a call. Instead, he took his time jerking him off, and Eliot loved it. He came on Quentin’s stomach, then pushed him down and finished him off with an enthusiastic blowjob. 

“Wow,” Eliot said, staring at the ceiling. “That was...it’s sometimes kinda awkward the first time, but shit you’re a natural.”

“I’m gonna slip into the bathroom for just a minute, okay,” Quentin said, smiling as he heard Eliot protest and cling to his arms. He felt much better about the situation but that didn’t mean he couldn’t improve just a bit more. He’d waited so long for Eliot, he wanted every little thing to be perfect.

==

This time Quentin didn’t wait to be called in, he just burst in to see Eliot unbuttoning his dress shirt and lowering his pants.

“I couldn’t wait,” he said, tackling Eliot and receiving a delighted laugh as they tumbled into bed. They stayed there for the rest of the night, and Quentin was confident enough to wreck Eliot a couple times and had enough leftover juice to let Eliot return the favor.

It was early in the morning and they were pulling the sheet over their bodies when Quentin rested his head against Eliot’s chest and said, “This was the best night of my life, and now I’m gonna have the best sleep of my life.”

“What makes you think you can spend the night?” Eliot asked, laughing and protesting when Quentin sat up and pretended to be getting out of bed. 


	4. Chapter 4

Quentin and Eliot spent the next few months getting to know each other. Quentin went to brunch with Eliot and Margo. Eliot accompanied him to office parties, and saved him from being stuck at the singles table. They had late afternoon coffees that turned into early evening dinners, late night desserts and long walks around the block to work it all off. They visited art galleries, went for long hikes and drank wine at outdoor concerts. Sometimes they just took a night off to cuddle and watch movies, which usually turned into marathon make out sessions which eventually turned into even longer marathon sex sessions. 

Quentin was spending most of his time at Eliot’s, which suited them just fine. Eliot didn’t have a roommate to worry about, and his place was within walking distance of all the coffee shops and restaurants they could ever need. As long as Quentin paid his rent on time, Penny didn’t say anything; he seemed to prefer it this way. 

The only concern was that Quentin had a couple of unanswered texts from Julia on his phone, accusing him of pulling the early relationship disappearing act. He supposed she was right. Since he’d started seeing Eliot, he’d neglected his other friends. 

“I want you to meet my family,” Quentin said. They were curled up on Eliot’s couch watching Great British Bake Off and eating ice cream out of a pint. Eliot licked chocolate off the spoon and paused with the spoon in the air.

“This sounds serious,” he said, plunking the spoon into the almost empty carton. Eliot put a lilt on his voice. “Meeting the parents.”

Quentin scooped up the last dregs of ice cream and offered it to Eliot. “It’s just my dad and Julia.” Eliot licked ice cream off the spoon in a way that made Quentin’s palms sweat. He tried to focus on the icing of a cake behind them. 

“Julia’s your best friend,” Eliot said. “You know what that means? The shovel talk.”

“You let me meet your best friend,” Quentin countered. “On our second date.”

Eliot smirked. “It wasn’t so much me letting you, it was me being forced to. Margo would have chaperoned our first date if she’d had the chance.”

Quentin laughed a little. “Julia is harmless.”

“I’ve heard stories, she’s gonna hate me.”

“Oh hush.” Quentin set down the empty ice cream carton and rested his head on Eliot’s shoulder. “She’ll probably like you more than me.”

Eliot paused the tv. He seemed to be warming to the idea already. “We could have them over for brunch. I’ll make eggs benedict and mimosas.”

Within the hour he had a list and a plan that would require at least 3 shopping trips. So much for a lowkey brunch at home. 

Two Sundays later, Quentin waited nervously at Eliot’s door as Ted Coldwater and Julia Wicker walked up the steps to the apartment, sharing a blue umbrella to protect them from the light drizzle of the early afternoon.

“They’re here El!” he shouted to Eliot, who was busy in the kitchen. He heard a few muffled curses then a clanging of pots as Eliot rushed to the door. He wiped his hands on a kitchen towel, then tossed it over one shoulder for safe keeping.

Quentin opened the door slowly, and was enveloped in hugs from both sides as Julia and Ted descended upon him 

“Dad, this is Eliot,“ Quentin said, taking his father’s coat and leaning the umbrella against the door. 

“It’s so nice to meet you, Mr. Coldwater,” Eliot said, shaking Ted’s hand. 

“Oh please, I never want to hear that again. Call me Ted.” Quentin’s dad laughed and wiped his muddy feet on Eliot’s welcome mat before taking it any farther.

“And this is Julia. Julia, Eliot.” Eliot reached out to shake her hand but Julia grabbed him instead. He had nearly a foot of height on her, but somehow she dwarfed him.

“Oh my god, he didn’t even tell me half of it. You are so handsome! Q adores you, you’re all he talks about.” Julia smothered Eliot into a hug. 

Quentin felt his face getting hot but the expression on Eliot’s face was enough to soften his embarrassment. He looked rather pleased with himself. Eliot gave Quentin a smile from over her shoulder and Quentin could only smile back. 

“Eliot made a huge spread,” Quentin said, leading them into the dining room. “Eggs Benedict with home fries and I made mimosas. Strawberry, orange and pomegranate.”

Ted and Julia took their seats. Eliot made a big show of serving the eggs benedict, carefully ladling out hollandaise sauce and spooning the poached eggs on top of the toasted muffins. Quentin was trying not to crowd him but he was also enjoying watching Eliot work so diligently. 

He opened a bottle of champagne and poured it into four glasses, topping two off with orange juice for himself and Julia, then one each with peach and strawberry. He carried the glasses on a silver tray and brought them into the dining room. 

“I just need to grab some more plates,” Eliot said. “Can I get you anything else?”

“We’re fine,” Ted said, already cutting into his benedict. “Quentin must have told you I would eat anything covered in hollandaise, it’s my favorite.”

Quentin wasn’t expecting Eliot’s return to the kitchen and he tried to step out of his way, but in doing so, the delicate balance of the tray tipped and the four glasses crashed to the ground. Quentin dropped to his knees and tried his best to pick up all the pieces of glass. It was a mess, and he wasn’t even sure where to start. 

“Ouch!” Quentin’s hand caught a sharp piece of glass.

“Q, stop.” Eliot was down on the floor now with him, trying to help. He grabbed Quentin’s injured hand. “You’re bleeding.”

Julia jumped up from her place at the table. “Where’s the paper towels?”

“Get a piece of bread,” Ted said. “It helps pick up the tiny pieces.”

“Let me run to the bathroom and get a bandaid,” Quentin said, not wanting to prolong this disaster any further. 

===

“You know I think I’ll do the mimosas tableside,” Quentin said, grabbing the glasses and bringing them into the dining room table. He set each glass next to their guests and poured the champagne, not spilling even a drop, then added the fruit juice. Meanwhile Eliot carefully dished out the rest of the food.

“Hollandaise would make even a hockey puck taste good,” Ted said, taking a bite of his benedict. “This is great, thank you Eliot.”

“He does all the cooking.” Quentin took his place at the table and unfolded his napkin. 

“Are you two living together?’ Julia asked, sipping at her mimosa.

They exchanged looks. Were they? Quentin was spending 90 percent of his time there and he had moved most of his stuff into Eliot’s apartment.

“Yes,” Eliot answered for him. “Can I get anyone more food?”

“Why don’t you sit down?” Quentin said. “You cooked.”

Eliot served him some potatoes and then leaned over to kiss Quentin before sitting down at his own spot. It was the kind of thing that always sounded embarrassing in theory, but in practice made Quentin smile into his champagne glass.

“He’s amazing,” Julia whispered after breakfast. Eliot had gone back into the kitchen, and Ted was using the restroom. “Like way too good for you.”

“Don’t you think I know that?” Quentin replied, and they laughed together. Julia put her hand on his arm and gave it her trademark squeeze. It was her way of calming him down, or telling him she cared, or in this case, congratulating him.

“I really like him,” Quentin said.

“He seems to really like you too.” Julia had a quiet way about her where he felt like she was slowly taking everything in. If Julia saw it, it had to be at least partly true.

Eliot brought in a coffee cake and a huge pot of steaming coffee and served it to everyone, then made an even bigger show of putting a dollop of fresh whipped cream and chocolate shavings on Quentin’s cup. Quentin knew he was spoiled, and he was loving every minute. 

==

“You charmed the pants off them, you know,” Quentin told Eliot later, as they stood side by side in the kitchen. Eliot was drying with a white towel while Quentin did the hard work with a scrub brush on the brunch dishes. Quentin had insisted he be the one to get the cinnamon streusel out of the baking dish; it was murder on the hands and Eliot had worked too hard all day already. 

“Your dad is amazing,” Eliot said. “He’s pretty much you 20 years from now.”

“My dad is the best, boring but smart. My mom told me she only divorced him because he was so boring.”

“I didn’t think he was boring at all,” Eliot shrugged, easily reaching over Quentin’s head to put some coffee cups away in an upper cabinet. 

“That’s what everyone says about me too, at first at least,” Quentin said. “Until they get bored and then--”

“Hey,” Eliot reached into the soapy water and stopped him in his work. “I’m not gonna get bored of you.”

Quentin bristled at that, and concentrated on his scrubbing. “El, I don’t—”

“Listen.” Eliot pulled Quentin closer to him. Quentin held his gloved hands away in order to not drip soapy water all over the two of them. Eliot didn’t seem to notice. 

“You’re not boring. Your dad is great. Julia is great,” he said. “I feel privileged to have met them.”

Quentin stayed there, pressed up against Eliot’s chest, not caring he was leaving two wet spots on his blue shirt. “Of course I wanted you to meet my family. I love you.”

Eliot bit his lip and looked down at Quentin’s yellow hands. “You what?”

“I love you,” Quentin said, not caring. He craned his neck to reach high enough so that he could brush Eliot’s lips with his own.

“Q, I love you too, you know that right?” Eliot said once they broke apart. He reached out for Quentin’s rubber gloves, trying to get the stubborn items off .

“You never said it,” Quentin said, throwing the rubber gloves into the sink. Eliot reached blindly behind him to turn off the water. He had Quentin backed up against the sink now and he deliberately bent his head to get up close and personal with Quentin’s right ear. Quentin shivered. 

“I love you,” he whispered. Quentin melted into his embrace, not caring that his back was completely soaked now, or that his hands smelled like rubber. Eliot dragged his tongue down Quentin’s neck and he was lost. 

“The dishes!” Quentin protested weakly as Eliot dragged him into the bedroom.

“Fuck the dishes!”

== 

“Are you ever gonna let me meet your family?” Quentin asked a few days later. Whenever the topic of Eliot’s family came up, he tended to change the subject or give vague non-answers. At just the word family, he could see Eliot tense up. 

“I don’t want you to meet them.”

“Oh.” Quentin tried not to take it personally. Eliot saw right through him and wrapped his arms around him, giving him a squeeze and a kiss on the forehead.

“I’m sorry,” Eliot said. “My dad and I, we don’t work. I don’t want him to meet you because he doesn’t deserve to know...”

Quentin just sat quietly listening.

“My dad kicked me out three times. The first time, he let me come back, the second time my mom let me come back and the last time, well…”

Eliot reached up and lifted his hair away from his scalp. Quentin leaned in to better see what Eliot was showing him.

It was faint, but there was the telltale raised silver line of a scar. Quentin bristled and bit down hard on an angry urge. 

“My mom let him, she didn’t try to stop him, and if anything she encouraged him. My brothers? Bunch of useless redneck assholes. None of them gave two shits.”

Eliot let his hair fall, covering the scar. “I didn’t go home after that. I moved to New York with thirty dollars and a stolen suitcase. For the first two years I was working 3 jobs just to keep from starving, and I did a few things I’m not proud of. But then I met Margo, and she let me move in with her, and then she gave me a job, and then she made me her partner.”

“I’m not that person anymore,” Eliot said, making sure Quentin was looking him in the eye as he said it. “I don’t need a family. This is my home, you and Margo are the most important people to me.”

“I don’t care who you used to be, I don’t care that you lied, I just want you to know, that if I ever met your dad, I would…” Quentin clenched his fists just thinking about it.

“You’d have to get in line behind Margo,” Eliot said, and pressed his lips to Quentin’s temple. “I’ve never been afraid of anyone or anything since then but—”

“You’re afraid of me?”

Eliot puffed out his chest. “Fucking terrified.”

They laughed and Quentin kissed his cheek, then the other, and then his lips for good measure. Eliot sighed and closed his eyes.

“I’ve been meaning to ask you something,” Quentin said after a beat. Eliot opened one eye suspiciously. 

“So, can I move in?” Quentin asked.

Eliot used his foot to nudge a stack of books Quentin had left on the floor beside the couch. “I thought you already had.”

“It’s gonna break Penny’s heart but I guess it was meant to be.”

==

Quentin and Eliot adjusted quickly to living together officially. Quentin had apologized to Penny, but as he’d predicted, Penny had acted like the whole thing was his idea. He insisted he was gonna keep the deposit. Against all odds, sometimes Quentin kinda missed him. 

“Penny’s new play is opening this weekend,” he told Eliot. He’d gone out to get the paper and found the invitation in the mail. “He thinks I’m a huge fan of the theatre because I showed up to his first play and hung out backstage.”

“What are you, some kind of groupie?” Eliot was in the bathroom, getting ready for work. 

“Do you want to go?” Quentin said, holding out the tickets.

Eliot paused in the act of shaving. “What’s it called?”

“ _The Great and Terrible Denouement_ ,” Quentin read. “Written, directed and starring Penny Adiyodi.”

“Oh Jesus,” Eliot went back to his face. “Can I please not? Margo owes me a cocktail and she’s dating the bartender at Green Street for at least another couple of days.”

“I’ll ask somebody else,” Quentin said, putting the tickets into a pocket and grabbing his phone instead. “Who’s gonna be free on a Friday night with less than 24 hours notice?”

==

“That was brilliant!” Josh said.

Quentin had been snoozing most of the play, so he jerked up with a start as the crowd began to clap and stand up. He did the same, watching the cast bow, including a very proud Penny. It hadn’t been the most exciting thing, but at least no one had ruined the show in an obvious way. 

“How about we grab some dinner and drinks?” Josh said as they waited for the aisles to clear. “There’s that café around the corner with the really good bacon wrapped figs?”

“Sure,” Quentin said, looking at his phone. Eliot had texted a few hours before that he was out at the bar with Margo, so he didn’t expect to hear or see him until later.

As he slipped his phone into his pocket, he looked up to see a flash of blonde hair. From the profile, he could see she was also wearing black glasses.

His palms started to sweat.

“Don’t look now,” he told Josh, trying to steer him away. “I just saw this girl I used to have a major crush on.”

“Where?” Josh whipped his head around, drawing too much attention to the two of them.

It was definitely Alice. In the same moment he confirmed it, he saw her recognize him, and her face broke into a smile. There was no escaping now. Quentin waited until he had a path, then headed toward her, Josh behind.

“Quentin!” she said

“Hi,” he said, accepting a hug across the aisle. “This is Josh, we work together.”

“Nice to meet you, this is my girlfriend Kady.”

Alice shook hands with Josh and Quentin studied Kady for a minute. She was incredibly gorgeous, with wild curly hair and green eyes. She was wearing a black leather jacket over a simple outfit. Alice was dressed just as she always did, a short high-necked dress and black tights paired with black boots.

“You could have told me, you know,” Quentin said. “I mean I didn’t tell you I was bisexual but I would have if we’d had the chance.”

“What do you mean?” Alice said, eyebrows twisting. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“Well, Kady’s your girlfriend.” Quentin motioned at her. 

Alice made a face like she was tasting something awful. “Oh, I meant she’s a girl who is my friend. That’s all.”

Quentin opened his mouth and then closed it again. “Shit, I’m sorry.”

“You’re bisexual?” Alice asked. Quentin’s mouth was full of cotton and his hands were sweating. Kady smirked at him and suddenly Quentin felt like a cornered badger. He had to get out of there. 

“You know, it’s been lovely seeing you again,” Quentin said. “Can I just…”

Without waiting for a response, Quentin dove out of view and escaped into the closest bathroom.

==

“Quentin!” Alice said.

“Hi,” he said, and took a step closer, making the hug less awkward. “This is my *friend* Josh.”

“Nice to meet you, this is my girlfriend Kady.”

“Hello,” Quentin said, reaching out to shake hands with Kady. Her grip was solid and he had a sinking suspicion she could kick his ass given the chance.

“What are you doing here?” Alice asked. “I didn’t know you liked plays.”

“I’m friends with the playwright.”

“You know Penny?” Kady spoke up. “I’m his girlfriend.”

“Really? He was my roommate up until about 4 months ago. I just moved into my boyfriend’s place.”

“Shit, so that means you’re that Quentin!” Kady said, nudging Alice and giving him a second look. He could tell by her expression that Penny had told her everything. 

“You look great,” Alice said. “We have to go say hi to Penny, do you want to come?”

Quentin couldn’t think of a worse idea. “Actually we have a place to be. G’night ladies.”

Josh was considerate enough to wait until they were outside to make any comments. “She was your girlfriend? Dude, you just only know how to reach high, don’t you?”

“Not technically,” Quentin said. “I tried but she turned me down. Twice.”

Josh shook his head. “Do you know if she’s seeing anyone now?”

“Hey!” Alice came up behind them. “So I left Kady, she’s gonna be spending all night with Penny anyway. Would you like to have a coffee and catch up?”

“Sure,” Quentin said. He wasn’t sure but he thought Alice looked a little nervous. But she was playing with her hair in a way he’d never seen. 

“So nice to meet you Josh,” she said. “How about that cafe on Poplar?”

Quentin mouthed an apology to Josh and let her take him. Josh gave him a thumbs up and they walked down the street. They ordered coffee at first, but then Quentin revealed he’d missed dinner, so they’d walked across the street to a pub and ordered some food and some drinks. Not having any romantic pressure attached to their interaction made a huge difference. Quentin was able to interact with Alice in a much more comfortable way. Their conversation was pleasant. 

After a couple cocktails, he said goodnight and walked her back to her car over by the theatre.

“It’s kind of a shame,” she said. “That I turned you down all those years ago. I think we could have had something.”

“Alice,” Quentin said, stepping aside. “You did me a favor. I met Eliot, and he’s amazing and we’re very happy.”

“That’s great,” she said. Her eyes looked sad but she smiled anyway.

“Thanks for coming out with me,” she added. “You know I’ve had a couple too many drinks, I should get a cab.”

“I’ll call one,” Quentin said, retrieving his phone. He had some texts from Eliot, a couple pictures and a couple drunk sexts. He grinned before remembering he wasn’t alone, and quickly found the app.

==

Quentin walked home and used the key Eliot had given him to let himself inside. The apartment was dark and quiet. Eliot wasn’t home yet. Quentin took his time getting ready for bed, brushing his teeth, washing his face, pulling his hair back and fluffing the pillows.

He was falling asleep when he heard the door creak open and the sounds of Eliot trying to tiptoe around their place. All he could do was lie in bed and try not to laugh, as drunk Eliot had the grace of a stampeding elephant. 

“Let me help you,” Quentin said, finally getting out of bed to help him take off his clothes. “Did you have a good time with Margo?”

“Yes,” Eliot slurred. He obediently raised his arms so Quentin could pull the shirt over his head. 

“El, I have to ask you something.”

“I don’t wanna blow you right now,” Eliot said, crawling into bed.

“No, not that. I love you, and I know you’re drunk but I need you to know that there’s nobody else for me.”

“Oh Q,” Eliot said, his face already smushed into the pillow. “I love you too.”

Quentin kissed him on the check and turned off the light, giggling a little when Eliot started snoring a few minutes later. 

The next morning Eliot was hungover but in mostly good spirits and that was helped by Quentin ordering in cinnamon rolls and coffee from the bakery they both visited all the time.

“Last night a woman made a pass at me,” Quentin said.

“Oh?” Eliot licked frosting off a finger. “What happened?”

“Alice Quinn, we spent a summer at a cabin together. I had a crush on her all summer. I tried to ask her out but she turned me down. She was at Penny’s play and we had a few drinks afterward.”

“Quentin--”

“Just, let me explain. Nothing happened okay? I hope you’re not upset with me because what I’m gonna say next is gonna sound really stupid if you’re mad.”

“I’m not mad.”

“Good.”

Quentin reached out a hand to Eliot’s and closed his fingers over the top. “Eliot, will you marry me?”

Eliot’s brows arched and he sat up straighter. “I can’t believe you just asked me.”

“I’m sorry, I wanted to ask you last night, but I didn’t want to do it when you were drunk and I couldn’t wait any longer, I know this isn’t--”

“Quentin!” Eliot got up from the table and walked across the room and disappeared into the closet. After a moment of banging around, he returned, holding a small black box.

“Open it,” he said, handing it over to Quentin.

Quentin lifted the lid and gasped when he saw two silver bands side by side. 

“I designed them myself,” Eliot said. “I just finished the work last night, and I was gonna cook you a fancy dinner tonight and then ask you.”

“They’re perfect,” Quentin said. “I’m a fucking idiot. I ruined your proposal.”

“And in case you didn’t figure it out.” Eliot wiggled the rings out of the box and helped Quentin slide it down his finger. Quentin held the other ring out so Eliot could put it on.

“The answer is yes.”


	5. Chapter 5

Quentin would have been happy to have a long engagement, and he had a feeling Eliot felt the same way. However other people in their lives pushed them to start making plans almost immediately after they announced the engagement. Neither was insistent on a date, so they decided on a random Sunday afternoon in May. Eliot didn’t want June and neither wanted a church. They found a nearby park with a lovely sitting area and the perfect place to set up a little arch. Margo and Julia did the bulk of the wedding planning and for that Quentin was especially thankful. He didn’t have the heart to tell the baker her marble cake was dry but Margo had no problem telling her. Julia had charmed her way into discounts on the flowers and had even gotten the caterer to throw in a few plates for free.

The forecast had been clear skies and low 70s all week, but that day, just after two pm, the sky erupted into a downpour. Quentin put on his tuxedo, watching the weather, and hoped the rain would clear up by the time the ceremony was supposed to start at 3. 

It didn’t. Neither of the grooms cared. 

They walked down the aisle hand in hand in the pouring rain and said their vows in front of one of Penny’s actor friends who just happened to be a part-time judge. Quentin’s hair hung limp and damp in his face and Eliot’s curls melted. When they walked their shoes squished but as they ran down the aisle and into the luckily indoor reception, Quentin couldn’t stop smiling. 

“Do you have a Best Man?” People had kept asking until Quentin caved and picked Josh. Eliot begged off and instead allowed Margo to fulfill that duty. Julia had balked at being called a maid of honor so she’d been appointed the Best Woman. Otherwise, they’d gone against having bridesmaids and a traditional wedding party.

Margo announced that there were to be toasts by the Best Man and the Best Women. Julia looked amused at the idea of giving a toast, while Josh had gone completely white-faced. Margo’s toast was perfect, funny, and sardonic with just enough affection to make it appropriate. Julia’s toast was warm and simple, and the crowd loved it. 

Quentin hoped by the time it was Josh’s turn he would have calmed down, or at least watched the girls well enough to learn from their examples. But he was not so fortunate. Josh was a wreck. He stumbled over his words, he dropped the microphone and none of his jokes landed. Quentin tapped Eliot on the shoulder, “Can you excuse me?”

Penny was a decent Best Man. He complained about the duties but did them anyway. He brought his girlfriend Kady, which was a little awkward because of their first meeting, but when it came time for him to do the speech, Quentin thought he’d do well.

He didn’t. Turned out Penny did better at writing plays than heartfelt speeches. 

It was cringeworthy, painful to listen to, and about 5 minutes too long.

“You know, maybe I should have gone with my dad,” Quentin said to Eliot after the toasts. “He knows me better than anyone else.”

“Save that for the next wedding,” Eliot said. Quentin got up anyway, determined to make this right. “Where are you going?”

“Too much champagne.” Quentin kissed his groom as he pushed his chair away from the table. “I’ll be right back.”

“So when Quentin asked me to be his best man,” Ted said, standing in front of a wet but happy crowd of wedding guests, “it was what made me realize that my son is now a man, and he has picked the most perfect partner. I see the way Eliot treats him, and I know that Quentin has found someone that sees him for who he really is. They really love each other in a profound way. I’m so happy for you, Curly Q. Cheers!”

Ted wiped at his eyes as he clinked glasses with the other guests at his table. Quentin breathed a sigh of relief and took a long drink. Eliot whispered into his ear. “Your dad is the sweetest.”

“Dad, that was beautiful,” Quentin said later, passing by his father’s table. He was sitting with some cousins and friends while Quentin’s mom was at another table. She’d been cordial but kept her distance, which everyone involved seemed to appreciate.

“I don’t know, I should have told you two how much I love you,” Ted said, worrying at the edge of his napkin. 

“Dad?”

Ted threw the napkin into his plate. “You need a perfect wedding.”

==

“I just want you to know that I am so proud of you, Quentin. And Eliot, you are my family and you are the best thing that ever happened to my son. I love you two and wish you all the happiness in the world, Congratulations. Cheers!”

Quentin had a feeling that he wasn’t the only one who’d changed a couple things about the reception, but he knew his father only had good intentions. He toasted Eliot and wiped the tears from his eyes, noticing others were doing the same. 

After hours of dinner and dancing, Eliot and Quentin were off to the side, surrounded by empty wine glasses, beer bottles, and cake plates. Quentin was on the floor, his head up against Eliot’s legs and Eliot’s hand was in his hair, idly playing with a long strand.

“This is the best night of my life,” Quentin said, watching two very drunk people swaying on the dance floor.

“Mine too,” Eliot said.

“But I’m so tired.” Quentin closed his eyes. 

“I know, I had too much wine, and I’ve been up since 5.”

“I didn’t sleep at all,” Quentin said. “So much for the wedding night.”

Eliot just laughed and reached down to massage Quentin’s temples. “You can make it up to me on the honeymoon.”

They just rested there, not really talking, the guests starting to slowly ease off the dance floor. Quentin knew they didn’t have to stay, in fact, they were expected to leave early, however, Margo had hinted in her Margo way, ie. told him explicitly that they had to stay until 10 for a final surprise.

“Are you upset that it rained?” Quentin wrapped his hands around Eliot’s ankles, pinning himself between Eliot’s legs.

Eliot gave Quentin a reassuring pat on the head. “I wouldn’t change a thing.”

==

Margo had finally allowed them to leave, and they were saying goodbye to the people left inside when Ted took Quentin by the arm and motioned the two of them aside. 

“So I have something for you,” Ted said, pulling an envelope out of his suit jacket. 

“Dad, you don’t need to do anything,” Quentin raised his hand but his father shook his head.

“I bought these 6 weeks ago and It’s been killing me not to give them to you,” Ted slapped it into Quentin’s hand. “Open it!”

Quentin and Eliot opened it together, both gasping in shock once they saw what was inside. Plane tickets. Paris.

“Ted, you can’t,” Eliot said, immediately clutching the envelope to his chest and hugging his new father in law. 

“I can and will,” Ted said, returning the hug and motioning at Quentin to join. “It's my treat. I insist you go and enjoy every minute.”

“I love you Dad,” Quentin whispered into his Dad’s ear before they headed outside.

Margo screamed as soon as they were outside. “Now!”

The guests outside began to cheer, waving sparklers and confetti and it was a fun sort of chaos as they headed toward their car. Eliot began to laugh once they saw the car. It had been sprayed with whipped cream and covered in streamers. A just married sign hung from the bumper, including a couple cans and shoes tied to it for good measure. They’d thought of every stupid wedding cliche, and Quentin kinda loved it. 

==

Quentin and Eliot hadn’t planned much for a honeymoon. However, the gift from Ted changed their perspectives. As soon as their schedules aligned, they went to Paris for a week. They did all the tropey tourist things that they both had always dreamed of. By the end of the trip, they were both exhausted, blissful, and even more in love than when they left. 

When they returned home, neither wanted to unpack and they still had wedding gifts arriving in the mail. Julia had been sweet enough to watch their house while they were gone, and she’d left them a stack of mail and things to deal with. They took one look at it and raced each other for the bedroom to take a nap.

Quentin was fast asleep when his phone began to ring. His body was all out of whack from the time change and it took him a moment to get his bearings. Once he finally knew which end was up, he answered his phone. It was his aunt Dina, his father’s sister. He could count on one hand the number of times they’d talked on the phone. 

“Hey honey, I know you just got home but I need to tell you. Your dad just got out of the hospital,” Dina said, sounding worried. “He made me promise not to tell you until you got home.”

He cursed under his breath. “Why didn’t you call me anyway?”

Dina sighed. “You know Ted. He wasn’t feeling well for a long time, and he mentioned something to his primary doctor, so they sent him to the hospital for some tests.”

Quentin was instantly filled with guilt. He hadn’t taken much time to check in with his dad while they were gone. He started putting on his coat and shoes before he’d even hung up the phone with his aunt.

“Q?” Eliot was groggy. “What’s wrong?”

“Just go back to sleep,” Quentin said. Eliot opened his eyes. 

“Where are you going?”

“It’s my dad,” Quentin admitted.

“Okay,” Eliot sat up and stretched. Not a moment to hesitate. “Let’s go.”

Quentin thought about insisting he stay home, however as selfish as the thought was, he wanted his husband there. Something was wrong with his father, and the idea of losing him shook Quentin to his core. He held out his hand for Eliot to take.

“Dad!” he said, barging into his father’s apartment. It wasn’t even locked, and even if it had been Quentin knew exactly where to find the key. 

“Oh, Quentin.” Ted was sitting on the living room sofa, curled up with a large book. “I suppose Dina ratted me out.”

“What did the doctor say?” Eliot asked, taking a seat beside him while Quentin took the other.

Ted let out a long sigh then patted his knees. “It’s cancer. In my brain and it’s spreading. It doesn’t look good boys.”

“There’s got to be something they can do,” Quentin said, grabbing on to his dad’s arm. “There’s got to be something _you_ can do.”

“How long?” Eliot asked. 

“A few months at most,” Ted said. “I didn’t want you to worry about me. I feel fine.”

“Dad!” Quentin couldn’t believe the volume or the pitch of his voice. He sounded like a hysterical little girl. “Stop lying to me. And if you say you don’t want us to worry again, I swear…”

“Here are the papers the doctor sent home.” Ted pointed to a folder on the coffee table. “Dina already read them.”

Quentin and Eliot read them all, Quentin looking for meaning or hope in every paragraph. But there was little to be found. They stayed for a couple more hours until Ted begged them to go home and let him rest. He gave Eliot an extra long hug as he walked them to the door. Then he grabbed Quentin and did the same, taking a moment to speak to him face to face.

“Remember son, there are some things that can’t be fixed no matter how hard we try.”

Quentin sobbed in the car all the way home and Eliot’s eyes were glassy in a way that wasn’t just from lack of sleep.

==

The next few months were tricky. Eliot was swamped at work and Quentin fell into one of the deepest depressions of his life. They were newlyweds and they were supposed to be blissfully happy and spending every minute together, but instead, Quentin was spending all his free time either at the hospital with Ted or at various excursions and Eliot was working overtime at his shop. 

When they did have time together, they were so emotionally wrung out they often zoned off in front of the tv watching shitty reality shows or brain-dead movies. Eliot stopped cooking, Quentin stopped cleaning and the house began to feel small, cramped and dusty.

The final straw was when Eliot came home after a 10 hour day and found Quentin asleep on the couch in a pile of takeout containers and assorted garbage. Quentin was embarrassed at the state of their house and the state of himself, but he was also so emotionally bereft that he couldn’t bring himself to care.

“Quentin,” Eliot snapped. Quentin woke up from his nap to find his husband standing in front of him with his hands on his hips and a disappointed frown.

“You look like a fucking bum,” he said and started picking up the mess.

“I’m sorry,” Quentin said. He moved aside a box of Chinese food. “I got home and I had planned to do some cleaning and then--”

“Do you know how hard I work, and how fucking upsetting it is to walk into a house that looks worse than how I left it?’ Eliot said, taking the box of food and throwing it into the garbage with a flourish. “How I dread coming home because this dump is just so depressing?”

Quentin felt his heart sink but he also felt a tinge of anger ignite under his spine. “I said I would clean up this weekend.”

“You said that last weekend,” Eliot huffed, taking the garbage bag into the kitchen where he began cleaning off the table. 

“The least you could do is wash the dishes,” Eliot said, pointing at the kitchen sink, which was still full of their plates and silverware. 

“So everything is my job? I’m not your maid! I work just as hard as you do, just because I don’t make as much money doesn’t mean everything is my responsibility!”

“I never said it was, but when you say you’re going to do something,” Eliot muttered. The kitchen towel was falling off the stove so he took a minute to fix it. Somehow the simple action fueled Quentin’s fire.

“What do you do around the house?’ Quentin countered. He crossed his arms and stood in front of Eliot. “I don’t see you doing the dishes or vacuuming the floor or cooking.”

“I cleaned the bathroom,” Eliot said.

“Like two weeks ago,” Quentin said, pointing towards the bathroom. “You don’t pull your weight, you don’t come home until late most nights and you just go to bed without even seeing me.”

Eliot let out a huff of air. “You sound like an ungrateful spoiled brat. I can’t even believe I’m hearing this from you. I work my ass off for us so that we can afford this house, and you’re upset you’re not getting as much dick?”

Quentin groaned. “I’m just saying I don’t even feel married to you anymore.”

“We’ve only been married for six months, Q, you’re acting like a desperate housewife. Next your gonna tell me you’re fucking the pool boy.”

“Okay, can we just take a time out, we're both pissed off, and this isn’t doing any good. I’ll clean up, and let’s just stop before we say something we can’t take back.”

“I have nothing to say to you,” Eliot said. “I think I’ll go stay with Margo for awhile.”

“Eliot please,” Quentin could hear the whine and the desperation in his voice. He really did sound like a petulant child and he hated himself for it. “Don’t go, just give me another chance.”

He just needed a break and he’d run upstairs and he could fix this. He could go back and clean the house and everything would be fine. Eliot wouldn't be mad anymore. He just needed Eliot to stay a little longer. His phone began to ring, making Eliot sigh and stomp into their bedroom.

Quentin pulled out his phone and glared at the screen. His aunt. He let out an angry groan and held it to his ear. He really wasn’t in the mood to deal with her bullshit right now. Maybe he could just ignore her and go work things out with Eliot.

“Hey Dina, can I call you back?”

“Quentin,” her voice sounded strained. “I came over to pick your dad up for dinner and he was...I called an ambulance but it was too late.”

“What?”

“There wasn’t anything we could do honey, he’s gone.”

Quentin felt the world tilt on its axis and suddenly he had lost all strength in his legs. He listened to his aunt’s voice as she continued to talk, but nothing made sense. She could have been speaking in tongues for all he knew. 

Eliot came down the stairs with his overnight bag. He was still angry and his face was clouded over, but he took one look at Quentin and his whole attitude changed.

He dropped the bag at their feet. “Honey, what’s going on?”

“My dad,” Quentin started to say. Eliot picked up the phone and began talking to Dina. Quentin felt like he was going to pass out. He began to wobble on his feet, which Eliot must have noticed, as he wrapped a strong arm around him. Quentin closed his eyes so tight no tears could escape and buried his head in Eliot’s chest, feeling it rumble as he spoke. Finally, he hung up, wrapped both arms around Quentin, and just held him. It took Quentin a minute to realize Eliot was shaking because he was crying too. They stood there for what seemed like hours before Quentin disengaged, only because he was getting smothered.

“Q, let’s go to bed,” Eliot said. “I’ll call a cleaning service in the morning.”

==

“Dad?”

Quentin walked into his father’s study. The Beach Boys were playing on the stereo and his father was sitting at his work table. A puzzle was spread across the surface, and Ted was deep in thought on where to fit the piece in his hand. A check of the box told Quentin it was a 500 piece portrait of the New York skyline at sundown.

“Hey curly Q.” Ted smiled as Quentin took a seat across from him at the table. “What do I owe the pleasure of your company?”

“Something happened,” he said, helping slot in a missing piece. “I came from about six months from now.”

“Oh, I understand,” Ted said. He had a mug of tea at his left hand, and he stirred it as he scanned the table for another puzzle piece. He picked up the stereo remote with his free hand and muted the music. 

“Dad, in the present, you’re dead.”

Ted appeared unbothered by that fact. “I’ve been sick for longer than you probably realize.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Quentin wished his dad would stop doing the puzzle and just look at him for a minute. 

Ted shook his head. “I don’t want you trying to change anything. I just want you to understand. Nothing lasts forever. Not even for us.”

Ted adjusted his reading glasses, then really locked his eyes on Quentin for a minute. Quentin held his breath, waiting for him to say something, but instead, he went back to work on the puzzle. Quentin turned on the overhead light and sat back down, gathering pieces of the harbor. He stayed until they finished.

==

Things between Eliot and Quentin started to improve. Quentin went back to his psychiatrist, and started working again to manage his depression. Eliot took some leave from the shop, and Quentin started helping around the house a lot more. Even though Ted was dead in the present, being able to visit his dad in the past helped Quentin. He usually went back to help his dad with a puzzle, or to talk about a book, or to simply sit on the porch and have a beer. 

Before he realized, a year had passed since Quentin and Eliot’s wedding. Their marriage felt solid, Eliot’s career was booming and Quentin was happy at work. Everything seemed to be in the right place. Which was why Eliot must have felt the need to rock the boat. 

*What do you think about having kids?” Eliot asked one day over coffee and avocado toasts.

Quentin looked up at his husband like he wasn’t sure if he was in the room with the same person who’d just been complaining about models at New York Fashion Week. 

“I never really thought about it,” Quentin said. 

He was lying of course. He had thought about it. At some point in his life he’d accepted that kids were something that he might want, but when he fell in love with Eliot, he’d accepted that kids were not gonna happen without more intervention than the norm. He’d been afraid to bring it up in case Eliot reacted strongly. But now, Eliot looked so casual, sipping a latte and rubbing his foot against Quentin’s. 

“I don’t _not_ want kids,” he added. 

“We could adopt,” Eliot said. “Or there’s surrogacy.”

“You really have thought about this,” Quentin smiled at him. 

“Listen baby, we’re not getting any younger, and if this is something we want, it might take a while to make it happen. I’m just doing some research.”

“El,” Quentin put his half-eaten toast down on the coffee table. “You are gonna be an amazing father. I’m just worried I won’t be able to-”

“I don’t want to hear it,” Eliot sounded stern. “I was just gauging interest. “

They went back to their breakfast for a minute, the issue seemingly dropped. Eliot went back to reading twitter on his phone and Quentin reached for the remote to turn on the TV. 

“For the record,” Eliot said, not looking up from his phone. “You will be the best dad ever. I just know it.”

==

Once Eliot had broached the idea of children, the idea grew legs and started to walk. Quentin daydreamed about it all the time. He’d walk into Eliot’s second bedroom, the one they were using as a makeshift office, and he’d think about how nice it would look with a new carpet and fresh paint, and maybe a mural on one wall. Winnie the Pooh maybe? 

He brushed those thoughts aside until one day he was sitting on the couch watching House Hunters and Eliot dropped a book of paint samples into his lap.

“I put notes on the pages I want you to look at,” Eliot said. He nonchalantly started tugging on his tie and kicking off his loafers.

“For what?”

“For the nursery.”

Quentin threw the book down. “Really?”

“Really.” Eliot reached down to pull him up and off the couch. “Let’s have a baby.”

Quentin hugged and kissed him for a minute, basking in the excitement. Then he eagerly spread out the book, checking out all the paint colors, and telling Eliot his opinions on each one.


	6. Chapter 6

Six months later Eliot and Quentin were waiting in a doctor’s office to meet their surrogate. They had a folder full of papers from their lawyer, and they were filled with nervous energy.

“You must be Quentin and Eliot,” said a young woman. “I’m Arielle.”

They jumped out of their seats to shake her hand and hug her. Arielle was younger than Quentin had been expecting, kind of dainty looking with long reddish blonde hair and vibrant eyes. They took her out to lunch and over bowls of tomato soup and salad learned more about her. She was a botanist, and she already had one child with her husband of three years. She’d been inspired to be a surrogate by her aunt, who was a surrogate for a childless couple. Her aunt had told her it was one of the most rewarding experiences of her life.

They told Arielle about their own backgrounds and their current lives. She was warm and friendly and by the end of the lunch, they were on the phone with their lawyer, asking him what the next step would be. 

Quentin and Eliot were quiet on the drive home, each thinking about how close they were to becoming parents. Quentin couldn’t wait to go visit his dad.

Eliot was on the phone with Margo right away so Quentin had no problem slipping upstairs into their walk-in closet. 

When he arrived at his father’s, he found Ted flipping through a book of pictures. Sometimes coming back to see his father was extremely hard, knowing that he’d never be able to meet Quentin’s baby or hold them.

“Dad, I’ve got something to tell you,” he said bursting into the room. “Eliot and I are gonna have a baby.”

“Oh Q,” Ted jumped off the couch and embraced him. “I’m so happy for you.”

They chatted eagerly and soon it was time for him to go back. Ted put his hands on Quentin’s shoulders. “I have to tell you something important. Once the baby is born, you won’t be able to come see me anymore.”

The idea was like a weight being dropped in his lap. “What, why?”

“Everytime we go back, we risk changing something in the future, right? Well, if you go back before the baby is born, well, you risk changing the baby.”

Ted’s face was serious but soft.

“But Dad.” Quentin couldn’t move. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’ve seen it happen. I know how important this is for the two of you.”

Quentin sat down heavily in his dad’s recliner. He’d never realized that this could happen. He was essentially being told that in order to be a dad, he’d have to give up his dad. Somehow, he’d convinced himself that due to their gift that he’d never have to say goodbye. He’d had doubts about having children, but those were all based on his fear of being a bad father and screwing the kid up. Knowing that his dad was still around to help him out had always been his sanctuary. Now he realized that he and Eliot would be on their own.

==

Two months later, and Arielle was pregnant. At first, Quentin and Eliot kept their distance but she kept inviting them to doctor visits and texting them details about their baby. They set up their nursery, and Eliot found an artist to do a gorgeous mural on one of the walls. Winnie the Pooh, just like Quentin had always wanted. Throughout the nine months, Quentin felt the pressure of time ticking away. He visited his father more often than usual, keeping him updated on their progress and doing everything to ease the transition.

“If I have a son, will he have this ability too?” he asked.

“Yes he will,” Ted told him. “You can decide how to tell him.” They were drinking Ted’s favorite scotch and working on a model of a classic car. Ted had been very into his model collection lately. Well, he had been into his model collection 16 months ago, to be exact.

Quentin said, “I still don’t understand all the rules, all the nuances.”

“That’s parenting. One time I took you to a playground and you fell off the jungle gym and got a goose egg on your head, so I took you to the library instead. Then you came down with an ear infection. It’s all trial and error. Even with all these extra tries.”

His dad did his best to quell his fears but Quentin still worried. When he came back to the present he checked the calendar yet again, breathing a sigh of relief to see Ari’s due date was still weeks away.

Eliot came home from work late that night. He’d been pulling longer shifts to try to save up some paid time off so that he could take a long paternity leave. Quentin ordered them a pizza and Eliot ate it standing up in the kitchen, then disappeared into the shower. Quentin cleaned up the mess and put away the leftovers. In the time they’d been together, he’d learned how to handle Eliot when he was a little stressed out. He waited until he heard the shower shut off, then dug around in the refrigerator to find a bottle of wine. He used Eliot’s fancy corkscrew and poured two glasses. 

Eliot was reading in bed, wearing the new glasses he’d just bought. Quentin found them sexy and made sure to tell Eliot repeatedly, as the idea of him needing reading glasses had caused Eliot to have a minor meltdown at LensCrafters. Upon hearing Quentin come in, he put the book face down on his lap and happily accepted the glass of wine. 

They laid there drinking wine on top of their bedspread, neither talking for a few minutes.

“How was your day?” Eliot asked, finishing his wine and setting the empty glass down on the nightstand.

“It was actually pretty good,” Quentin said, curling up next to him.

“Oh, was it? If you had a bad day I was all prepared to have sex with you to cheer you up. But since it was such a good day...” Eliot sat up against the pillows and began to make himself more comfortable, adjusting his reading glasses and picking up his book. 

“Oh wait!” Quentin reached for Eliot. “It was terrible. Just the worst.”

He took the book out of Eliot’s hands and slid it onto the table next to the empty glass. Eliot pretended to be uninterested. He pouted until Eliot kissed the pout away. His humble attempt at acting sad was drowned out by their laughter.

==

Despite the careful planning, and Quentin’s obsessive calendar stalking, Arielle’s due date came before they were ready. It came and went without the baby and Quentin and Eliot were relieved, but this made the time crunch even more desperate. Quentin was making lists day and night of last minute necessities and Eliot was texting Arielle, asking for constant updates and check-ins. Quentin had resorted to hiding Eliot’s phone to give her a break. 

A week passed and still nothing. The doctor wasn’t worried, and neither was Arielle. Eliot and Quentin seemed to be the only ones freaking out. The doctor said she’d schedule an induction if she went two weeks over and sent them on their way. Arielle told the two of them to take a babymoon and enjoy their last few days as just the two of them.

Eliot liked the idea and started researching restaurants. “Hey what about this restaurant? Margo and I went once. You eat in complete darkness.”

“I’ve been there,” Quentin said without thinking. Technically he had, but not in this timeline. He couldn’t even lie and say he’d been there with Josh since they’d gone to the play instead.

“Oh, you have?” Eliot didn’t press him for more details and Quentin relaxed. Eliot kept scrolling the yelp pages on his laptop. 

“How about this sushi place? I met the fish supplier at a wedding once, he said the rainbow roll is to die for,” Eliot said, showing Quentin the page. 

“Sure, how about tomorrow night?” Quentin said.

“I’ll make a reservation,” Eliot said, picking up his phone and taking off his glasses, and Quentin breathed a big sigh of relief.

Eliot had suggested that Quentin dress up a little before dinner. And by suggest, he went into Quentin’s closet an hour before their reservation and pointed out exactly what he wanted him to wear. Quentin was zipping up his pants when his phone began to ring.

His heart skipped a beat when he saw that the caller was Arielle. Eliot was in the master bedroom, deep into his skincare routine.

“El, it’s Ari,” he called. He heard a gasp and then a smashing sound as Eliot dropped whatever glass bottle he must have been holding. But neither cared, as Eliot rushed into their bedroom and huddled with Quentin to hear the call. 

“I think this is it,” she said. “I’ve been having contractions all day and they just started getting really bad about an hour ago. I’m being admitted to the hospital.”

Eliot jumped up and grabbed his shoes, first putting them on the wrong feet. Quentin started to pace, the excitement rushing through his veins. He started following Eliot towards the door, his mind going a mile a minute. He needed to find his shoes, no he needed to get the baby bag, no he needed to do one important thing first. He stopped short, and headed back to their bedroom.

“I need to grab a coat.”

“It’s 75 degrees out!” Eliot protested.

“I need to go to the bathroom,” Quentin said, ducking into their room. 

Eliot sighed, keys already in hand. “Hurry.”

“The baby’s not going anywhere,” he yelled.

“I’m gonna pretend you didn’t say that,” Eliot said. “I’ll start the car.”

Quentin ran into the bathroom, splashed his face with cold water and concentrated. 

==

Ted’s house was unlocked, as it always was. Quentin usually took the stairs two at a time, always eager to start his visit. But today the climb to his father’s study took him longer than usual, as his feet stalled with every step. 

“Hi Dad,” he said. 

“Hey Curly Q,” Ted said. He was reading a thick book, a biography of Winston Churchill, and he eased it off his lap and set it on a table. “I’ve been expecting you. I just got this new model of a BT Bomber and I thought it would be perfect for us.”

Quentin sat down at the little card table and examined the box. Ted sat down across from him and began his ritual of cataloging all the parts and carefully checking the instructions. Quentin tried his best not to hurry him, but there were times he just wanted to dive in and assemble. Today he seemed caught in a war between wanting to rush and wanting to savor every minute.

Finally, he’d finished his preparation, and handed Quentin the pieces. They began their work, not talking at first, other than to ask small questions about the placement of pieces.

“Do you remember the model airplane you used to have in the study, in our old house?” Quentin asked.

Ted nodded, fitting a piece in carefully. “That was my favorite, until the day you climbed up on my desk and broke it.”

“I’m sorry,” Quentin said. “I just wanted to play with it.” It had been a shameful memory for many years. The look of sadness on his father’s face as they swept up the pieces. 

“I know you did,” Ted said. “So I bought another one for me.”

“You didn’t just turn back the clock to keep me from breaking it?”

“No, because that’s not what parenthood is like. You needed to learn that things break. Because after you broke that plane, you never played with my models again. And if I had just undone it, you wouldn’t have learned. And maybe you would have broken something bigger, something that really mattered in the long run.”

Quentin stopped working on the model and looked out the window, as if something should be there. His father just kept going, holding the wing in place while waiting for glue to set. 

“The baby’s coming.” The words stuck in his throat, a mixture of sadness and joy. He was almost ashamed to admit it.

“I figured,” Ted said. He still didn’t seem bothered. “Still don’t know if it’s a boy or a girl?”

“No, we want to be surprised.”

“Names?”

“We’ll figure it out when we see them.”

Ted laughed. “Good move. You were almost called Ronald.”

“Ronald?” Quentin made a face.

“That’s what your mom wanted, I was indifferent. If you’d been a girl, we were thinking Caroline, after your great aunt. But then when your mother went into labor, and we watched a news report at the hospital, the reporter that evening was named Quentin. 7 hours later, and you were in my arms and you just looked like a Quentin to me. I don’t think I had ever heard that name before. It was meant to be.”

Ted put down the wing and smiled at Quentin. It was almost too much to bear. 

“Dad, I don’t know if I can do this without you,” Quentin said.

“It doesn’t matter, because you can and you will. It won’t be easy, but nothing worth doing ever is. You will wonder how something is both the hardest and easiest thing you’ve ever done.“

Quentin just silently nodded.

Ted cleared his throat. “Now come on, we gotta finish this before you leave.”

They didn’t speak while they finished building the model. Ted carefully tweaked the wings and set it aside to dry. 

The finality of the moment was devastating. 

“I wish I could stay forever,” Quentin said, blinking back tears. “I’m gonna miss you so much Dad.”

“I love you Curly Q.” 

“I love you too.”

They embraced in the doorway for what felt like an eternity, but like everything else, it was over too quickly. Quentin took one final look at his father before he opened the closet door and slipped inside.

Quentin went home. He did his best to hide his tears and get his shit together before finally going outside to meet Eliot. 

“That took forever,” Eliot griped as Quentin slipped into the passenger side of their car. 

Quentin only smiled as they drove to the hospital, Eliot speeding all the while. The wait once they arrived was nearly unbearable. They paced the obstetrics waiting room for hours while frantically texting Arielle and her doula for constant updates. Finally, she stopped answering, and Quentin hoped it was for a good reason. 

An hour later and one of the nurses came in. “Would you two like to come meet your son?”

Quentin broke down and cried on the hospital floor. He would have been embarrassed had Eliot not joined in just a few seconds later. 

==

They gathered around the hospital bed where a tired but happy looking Arielle was cradling their son. He looked squishy and pink, with a little swatch of blondish brown hair. Quentin couldn’t help but reach out to give his finger a tug, just to make sure he was real. Arielle laughed, knowing what he was doing.

“Don’t worry he’s real, I felt all 8 pounds.”

==

“What should we name him?” Eliot asked. They’d each taken a turn holding the baby. He was now sleeping in the bassinet, a blanket sloppily swaddled around him. Quentin could see a tiny baby foot threatening to poke through, and he moved to tuck it under the blanket.

“Um, I know we didn’t talk about this much, but I was wondering if we could name him Theodore, after my dad. I understand that might be too much but—”

Eliot kissed Quentin and looked down at their baby. “It’s perfect.”

Quentin kept his hand on the baby’s foot, giving it a little squeeze, just cause he could. Theodore kept on sleeping. Eliot had already declared he had Quentin’s nose, but he wasn't so sure. In time, they’d see who he looked like. 

“What about a middle name?” Quentin asked.

Eliot fussed with the baby blanket. The baby had been sleeping for awhile, but neither of them wanted to sit down. “I don’t have one, and yours is awesome, so we could pretty much go any direction.” 

Quentin stared at the man across from him and the answer was so obvious it didn’t quite register at first. “Wilde.”

“What?” Eliot did a double take, looking up from the baby for the first time in hours. 

“Wilde, like Oscar Wilde. We wouldn’t have met without Oscar Wilde so it seems like a proper homage.”

“Theodore Wilde Coldwater-Waugh,” Eliot said, leaning down to kiss him on the forehead. 

“That’s a mouthful,” Quentin said, watching the baby squirm in his sleep.

“Teddy,” Eliot amended. “I love it.”

==

Quentin woke up on Sunday morning before the sun had come up, but he was having trouble getting back to sleep. He pulled the blankets up to Eliot’s shoulders and crept out of bed and into the hallway, making his way to the nursery. He tiptoed in, trying not to trip over the scattered toys strewn about on the play mat. He peeked into the crib and let out a little laugh when he was greeted with a pair of very awake blue eyes. 

“Couldn’t sleep either?” Quentin asked, spinning Teddy’s jungle animals mobile to make him smile. “Let’s give Papa a chance to sleep in.”

Quentin scooped him up and carried him to the kitchen, sitting him in his high chair while he prepared a breakfast of mashed banana and a bottle for the cooing baby. He scrambled a couple eggs and even toasted some bread, setting the table with their nice blue plates and using actual napkins instead of paper towels.

“What kind of special occasion is this?” Eliot wondered, walking into the room to give Teddy a snuggle and then Quentin a snuggle of his own. “Breakfast, the good china, napkins?”

“I just wanted to do something nice for you,” Quentin said, offering Eliot a fresh cup of coffee. “Now sit down.”

Eliot did as he was told, reaching over to wipe the banana off Teddy’s face. Quentin carefully spooned the food onto his plate and took his seat across from Eliot.

Quentin thought about his little family, the last couple of months, the diaper blowouts, the spit ups, the nights of no sleep and the happy mornings. He hadn’t gone back in time in over six months, and even in some of his worst moments, it hadn’t even come up as an option. 

“Let’s toast,” he said to Eliot, who had a mouth full of egg. “With our coffee.”

“You’re such a dork,” Eliot said, raising his glass anyway.

“To living in the moment,” Quentin said, toasting him with the coffee cup.

As Eliot toasted back, Quentin thought about all the times he’d come so close to losing him, and all the times he’d made mistakes and the other times life had gone in ways he never expected. He knew he was a lucky man, with a special gift, and his new purpose was to show Teddy how to use it to make life better, not just to fix his mistakes. 

The End

**Author's Note:**

> About Time is one of my favorite romantic comedies. It was so much fun to put a Magish spin on things. 
> 
> Thank you to Emily for the lovely art, Em for her beta work and support and the MHEA mods for organizing this event.


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